THE-ROOSEVELT 

THATI 
KNOW 


And 

Recollections 

of  the 

MostFamous 

American 

FightingMen 


MIKE 
DONOVAN 


MIKE    DONOVAN    AS    HE    IS    TO-DAY 


THE  ROOSEVELT 
THAT  I  KNOW 

TEN  YEARS  OF  BOXING  WITH  THE 
PRESIDENT— AND  OTHER  MEMO- 
RIES OF  FAMOUS  FIGHTING  MEN 

BY  MIKE  DONOVAN 

EX-CHAMPION  MIDDLEWEIGHT  OF   AMERICA  AND 
BOXING-HASTES  OF  THE  NEW  YOKE  ATHLETIC  CLUB 

[EDITED  BY  F.  H.  N.] 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
B.  W.  DODGE  &  COMPANY 

1909 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
B.  W.  DODGE  &  COMPANY 

Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
(All  Rights  Reserved) 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PREFACE 

Mike  Donovan's  ring  record  is  one  that 
any  champion,  including  the  greatest  of  modern 
times,  might  be  proud  of,  for  it  includes  bruis- 
ing battles  with  men  of  the  foremost  ring  posi- 
tions. His  encounters  with  John  L.  Sullivan, 
Walter  Watson,  McClellan,  George  Rooke  and 
Jack  Dempsey  were  of  the  most  astonishing 
character,  and  his  match  with  Jack  Dempsey, 
then  the  phenomenal  champion,  caused  quite  a 
commotion  among  the  swell  set  in  the  East,  for 
the  "old  man,"  as  Mike  Donovan  was  called, 
simply  astonished  them  by  besting  the  crack 
champion,  who  was  quite  a  young  man  in  com- 
parison with  his  rival.  This  engagement  with 
Dempsey  was  the  crowning  feather  in  the  pro- 
fessor's scientific  fighting  cap,  and  the  members 
of  the  New  York  Athletic  Club,  who,  almost  to 

2021112 


PREFACE 


a  man,  witnessed  the  great  battle,  were  amazed 
at  the  ivonderful  stamina  and  science  that  their 
teacher  displayed  against  the  Nonpareil  of  the 
American  prize  ring. — New  York  Herald. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK  PAGE 

I.  THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 8 

II.  KATE  CAREW'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  MB 21 

III.  I  MEET  YOUNG  JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN 87 

IV.  I  Box  WITH  SULLIVAN  THROUGHOUT  THE  COUNTRY  47 
V.  WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  THE  BRAWNY  SCOT 68 

VI.    BURKE,  OF  SAGINAW,  A  GOOD  MAN 80 

VII.    SULLIVAN'S  LAST  FIGHT  IN  NEW  YORK 103 

VIII.    SULLIVAN  BEATS  KILRAIN 120 

IX.      CORBETT  COMES  ON  THE  SCENE 136 

X.  CORBETT  STARTS  FOR  THE  BATTLE  WITH  SULLIVAN  162 

XI.    THE  FALL  OF  JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN 181 

XII.    SULLIVAN'S  SOUND  SENSE 196 

XIII.  MY  FIGHT  WITH  DEMPSEY 208 

XIV.  A  WORD  TO  THE  FIGHTING  BOYS  OF  THE  PRES- 

ENT DAY 223 

XV.    MODERN  FIGHTERS  ...  . .  231 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT   I  KNOW 


THE 

ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

ALL  the  world  knows  Theodore  Roosevelt,  the 
statesman;  the  man  who  turned  the  light  on 
the  corporate  highwaymen. 

He  has  made  the  "Big  Stick"  respected. 

But  the  "Big  Stick"  must  be  guided  by  law, 
not  so  the  fist;  wherever  you  see  a  head  hit  it 
is  the  fighting  rule ;  a  word  and  a  blow,  but  the 
blow  first — the  reverse  of  legal  practice. 

In  the  following  pages  I  propose  to  describe 

Theodore  Eoosevelt,  the  fighter,  untrammeled 

by  legal  restriction ;  the  lover  of  fistic  encounter, 

as  I  know  him;  the  man  of  brawn  and  muscle, 

3 


4      THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

with  a  genuine  fighting  spirit  and  the  courage  of 
two  ordinary  men  to  sustain  its  promise.  I  in- 
tend further  to  describe  his  methods  of  attack 
and  defense,  and  to  note  the  analogy  between  the 
spirit  he  exhibits  in  boxing  and  that  which  has 
urged  him  on  in  those  political  encounters  which 
have  made  him  famous. 

A  succession  of  glove-fights  with  him,  cover- 
ing a  period  of  more  than  ten  years,  in  which 
we  have  met  as  man  to  man,  where  it  was  give 
and  take,  with  no  restrictions,  gives  me  the 
right  to  speak  authoritatively,  and  I  wish  to 
say  here  that,  whether  or  not  he  was  champion 
of  his  class  in  college,  about  which  there  has 
been  some  discussion  in  the  press,  it  is  admitted 
that  he  was  an  able  fighting  man  then,  ready  to 
take  his  medicine  and  try  again.  I  can  say  that 
he  is  the  same  man  now — a  man  who  asks  no 
favors,  cool  in  a  fight,  determined,  aggressive, 
consumed  with  the  purpose  to  overcome  resist- 
ance, to  win;  a  glutton  for  punishment,  as  the 
ring  phrase  goes.  It  is  no  exaggeration  when 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW      5 

I  say  that,  in  some  mix-ups  with  him,  I  have 
been  compelled  to  resort  to  all  the  arts  and  de- 
vices that  have  come  to  me  from  years  of  seri- 
ous fighting,  often  to  slug  right  and  left  to  save 
myself. 

I  have  noted  his  career  in  politics,  seen  him 
go  for  the  mark  there  with  the  same  pertinacity 
that  he  shows  when  boxing.  Resistance,  discom- 
fiture, hard  knocks  in  one  domain  as  in  the 
other  serve  only  to  make  him  keener,  to  whet  his 
appetite  for  the  fray.  Had  he  come-  to  the 
prize-ring,  instead  of  to  the  political  arena,  it 
is  my  conviction  he  would  have  been  successful. 
The  man  is  a  born  fighter;  it's  in  his  blood. 

There  are  some  who  are  easily  diverted  from 
their  purpose,  some  who  go  impetuously  for- 
ward with  dash  and  spirit  which  will  not  be  de- 
nied, but  once  the  attack  seems  hopeless  they 
hesitate  and  fly  panic-stricken  in  hopeless  dis- 
order. A  few  only  remain;  these,  with  convic- 
tion imbedded  in  their  very  souls,  cannot  be 
stayed,  even  though  they  themselves  would  will 


6      THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

it.  They  go  tumultuously  forward,  even  to  the 
death. 

Theodore  Eoosevelt  is  of  them. 

He  reminds  one  of  the  biblical  general  who, 
his  men  faint-hearted,  wavering,  at  sight  of  the 
overpowering  on-rush  of  Philistines,  faced  the 
tide  undaunted,  so  firm  was  his  purpose  that 
he  furiously  laid  about  him  till  the  last. 

Even  in  death,  the  Bible  tells  us :  "His  sword 
clave  to  his  hand."  That  is  to  say,  the  hilt  of 
his  sword  was  found  to  be  imbedded  in  his  palm, 
a  sure  indication  that  he  never  wavered  from 
his  purpose  of  attack. 

I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  my  first  fistic 
encounter  with  Theodore  Roosevelt.  The  Gov- 
ernor left  me  in  the  old  billiard-room  of  the 
Executive  Mansion  at  Albany,  which  he  had 
fitted  up  as  a  gymnasium  for  his  boys,  in  order 
that  they  might  begin  their  physical  education 
under  his  eye. 

He  then  went  downstairs  to  don  his  boxing 
clothes. 


THE    PfcfcSlOtHT    HAS    +  6,000     R,&HT 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW      7 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

It  was  the  Governor  of  the  State  of  New 
York  who  had  left  me.  It  was  a  fighting  man 
who  entered  the  room.  He  wore  a  sleeveless 
flannel  shirt,  his  khaki  Bough-rider  uniform 
trousers  and  light  canvas  shoes  without  heels. 
First,  I  was  struck  by  the  expression  of  his 
eyes,  which  are  large,  light  blue,  placed  well 
apart,  aggressive,  fearless,  persistent.  He  is 
about  5  feet  8  inches  in  height,  but  his  great 
breadth  of  shoulders  and  bulk  of  body  make 
him  seem  shorter.  His  arms  are  short,  but 
heavy  and  well-muscled.  His  head  is  that  of 
the  typical  fighter.  It  is  broad  and  symmetrical, 
poised  on  a  powerful  neck.  A  plumb-line  could 
be  dropped  from  the  back  of  his  head  to  his 
waist.  That  formation  shows  not  only  the  fight- 
ing spirit,  but  the  physical  vigor  to  sustain  it. 
His  short,  thick  body,  with  its  high,  arched  chest, 
is  sturdily  set  on  unusually  strong,  sinewy  legs. 

I  noticed  he  wore  no  belt,  and  told  him  he  had 
better  put  one  on. 


8      THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

He  borrowed  one  from  my  brother  Jerry. 
After  pulling  on  his  gloves  he  stepped  forward 
on  to  the  mat.  Most  men,  on  coming  to  box  for 
the  first  time  with  a  champion,  present  or  re- 
tired, show  some  trepidation.  There  was  none 
of  that  here. 

After  we  shook  hands  I  studied  him  carefully. 
Then  I  led  a  left  jab,  following  it  up.  with  a 
faint-hearted  right  that  landed  like  a  love-tap 
high  up  on  his  cheek. 

He  dropped  his  hands  and  stopped. 

"Look  here,  Mike,"  he  said  indignantly; 
"that  is  not  fair." 

I  was  afraid  I  had  done  something  wrong. 
"What's  the  matter,  Governor?"  I  asked. 

"You  are  not  hitting  me,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  head.  "I'd  like  you  to  hit  out." 

"All  right,  Governor,"  I  said,  thinking  to 
myself,  this  man  has  a  pretty  good  opinion  of 
himself. 

We  started  in  again,  and  I  sent  in  a  hard 
right  to  the  body  as  he  rushed  in,  and  then  tried 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW      9 

a  swinging  left  for  the  jaw.  He  stepped  inside 
and  drove  his  right  to  my  ear. 

It  jarred  me  down  to  the  heels. 

I  realized  from  that  moment  that  the  Gov- 
ernor was  no  ordinary  amateur.  If  I  took 
chances  with  him  I  was  endangering  my  repu- 
tation. 

Prom  that  day  I  have  taken  no  chances  with 
Theodore  Roosevelt  with  the  gloves. 

I've  hit  him  many  times  as  hard  as  ever  I  hit 
a  fighter  in  the  ring,  without  stopping  him,  and 
thousands  know  how  hard  I  can  hit. 

I  want  to  say,  now,  that  I  never  saw  him 
wince  or  show  even  by  an  involuntary  sign  that 
he  was  discomfited  in  spirit,  no  matter  how  se- 
vere the  bodily  pain.  On  the  contrary,  it  met 
with  only  that  characteristic  turning  of  the  head 
a  bit  to  the  side,  a  grim  smile  and  a  determined 
setting  of  the  bulldog  jaw,  followed  by  another 
rush. 

Theodore  Roosevelt  is  a  strong,  tough  man; 
hard  to  hurt,  and  harder  to  stop. 


10    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

From  the  very  first  I  was  struck  with  the 
kindly  nature  of  the  man.  Though  pressed  with 
business  as  he  always  was,  his  mind  full  of 
problems,  with  a  crowd  of  importunate  office- 
seekers  and  would-be  advisers  forever  at  his 
heels,  he  hailed  my  appearance  with  genuine  de- 
light, and  always  found  time  to  inquire  after 
my  doings  and  welfare.  Sometimes  I  thought 
it  was  the  getting  away  from  the  exactions  of 
office,  the  temporary  respite  from  official  cares 
that  my  coming  signaled,  that  made  me  so  wel- 
come ;  again,  that  diplomatic  intrigue,  the  wran- 
gling of  officials,  intemperate  attacks  of  the  op- 
posing party,  all  of  which  must  be  settled  with 
words,  mere  words,  stirred  his  impatient  blood 
to  the  boiling  point.  A  box  on  the  ear  here,  a 
smash  in  the  wind  there,  I  could  readily  guess, 
would  have  suited  his  impulsive  nature  far  bet- 
ter. In  most  of  his  affairs  it  is  the  diplomatic 
"Having  the  honor  to  be" — but  never  doing 
anything.  He  must  hit  somebody,  hit  him  hard, 
and  I  thought  I  turned  up  opportunely  to  get 
what  was  coming  to  somebody  else. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    11 

This  was  my  first  impression.  A  mistaken 
one  as  I  soon  learned.  However  he  might  have 
settled  political  discussions  in  the  ring,  or  let 
rivals  for  a  post-office  wrestle  it  out — best  two 
out  of  three  falls  to  get  the  job — it  was  never 
in  his  mind  to  hand  out  to  me  the  punishment 
that  was  theirs.  He  had  come  to  like  me,  be- 
cause he  found  me  an  authority  in  a  domain  that 
particularly  interested  him,  because  I  repre- 
sented the  straightforward  method  of  the  real 
fighting  man,  who  fights  because  he  loves  to 
fight  and  brings  no  hard  feelings,  no  animosity 
into  the  game. 

Many's  the  time  I  have  been  passed  through 
a  throng  of  waiting  politicians  of  high  rank,  oft- 
en enough  summoned  by  the  sudden  bobbing 
around  a  door  of  the  President's  head,  with  a: 

"Hello,  Mike;  come  right  in!" 

It  seemed  to  me  that  though  immersed  in  po- 
litical conflicts,  that  kind  of  fighting  never  suf- 
ficed to  warm  his  blood,  for  I  never  saw  a  man 
more  willing  to  take  a  good  jolt  just  for  the 
pleasure  of  giving  one  back. 


12    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

One  day  while  I  was  waiting  in  the  office  for 
my  turn  to  see  the  President,  I  witnessed  an  in- 
cident which  proved  the  truth  of  my  belief  that 
under  his  rugged,  aggressive  exterior  there 
lay  a  vein  of  kindliness  and  sympathy. 

The  last  of  the  long  line  of  visitors  was  a 
woman  accompanied  by  a  young  girl  apparently 
her  daughter,  who  had  been  introduced  to  the 
President  by  a  man  whom  I  took  to  be  the  Con- 
gressman from  their  home.  She  was  impor- 
tuning the  President  for  a  favor  which,  for 
some  reason,  he  was  unable  to  grant. 

The  thought  flashed  through  my  mind  that 
this  woman  was  trying  to  get  a  pardon  for  her 
son — perhaps  a  deserter.  The  President  lis- 
tened attentively,  then  shook  his  head  emphati- 
cally. 

"I'm  sorry,  madam,"  he  said,  "but  I  can't 
do  it." 

"But,  Mr.  President,"  she  urged,  "won't 
you " 

"Madam,"  he  replied,  stepping  back  as  she 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I'KNOW    13 

came  toward  him,  "I  can't  do  it.  I  cannot  do 
it." 

As  she  turned  away,  very  sorrowful,  he  came 
toward  me.  His  eyes  were  sad.  The  corners  of 
his  mouth  drooped.  His  face  was  flushed  deep 
red.  The  veins  on  his  neck  stood  out.  He  was 
a  picture  of  distress. 

The  incident  proved  the  truth  of  the  old  rule 
that  a  man  cannot  be  a  good  fighter  unless  he 
has  a  good  heart. 

The  first  time  I  was  invited  to  the  White 
House  to  box  with  the  President  was  in  Janu- 
ary, 1904.  I  found  him  the  same  enthusiastic, 
simply  democratic,  kindly  man  I  had  boxed  with 
four  years  earlier  at  Albany. 

I  have  learned,  in  my  association  with  the 
President,  though  it  has  been  confined  solely  to 
sparring  bouts,  that  the  really  great  are  never 
pompous;  but,  on  the  contrary,  simple  and  sin- 
cere. 

Though  he  has  a  quiet  dignity  that  brooks  no 
familiarity,  the  genuineness  of  the  man,  his  di- 


14    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

redness,  earnestness,  at  once  puts  you  at  your 
case,  and  the  consideration,  which  seems  bred 
in  his  bone,  warms  you  to  him  at  the  very  start. 
"Why  don't  you  stay  for  the  reception  to- 
night, Mike  ? ' '  said  he  one  afternoon  after  a  ten- 
round  bout. 

"Why,  Mr.  President,"  I  replied,  "I  haven't 
the  proper  clothes  for  anything  like  that." 

"Oh,  you  mean  a  dress-suit.    Say,  Mike,  I'll 
lend  you  one  of  mine." 

I  caught  his  eye  as,  with  the  characteristic 
movement  of  the  head  to  one  side,  he  grinned 
encouragingly  at  me  and,  seeing  that  he  really 
meant  it,  I  looked  from  his  full  figure  to  my  own 
slender  outlines  and  burst  out  laughing. 
"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Mike!" 
The  words  were  scarce  out  of  his  mouth  when 
he  caught  the  reason  for  my  hesitancy — the 
same  ridiculous  figure  appeared  in  his  mind's 
eye  that  I  had  pictured  myself,  as  wearing  his 
clothes,  and  he  caught  the  infection,  and  for 
some  moments  we  stood  facing  each  other  and 
laughed  ourselves  hoarse. 


THE  6IU.  AFTER 
MWTE  Oft  7V«0 


JtL 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    15 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Mr.  President,"  I 
said,  when  I  had  recovered,  "I'll  hire  a  dress- 
suit." 

So  I  did,  and  a  disappointing  fit  it  was, 
though  the  best  I  could  do — a  pinch  in  the  waist 
and  shoulder,  and  too  long  in  the  sleeves  and 
legs.  For  a  moment  I  determined  to  give  over 
the  idea  of  the  reception,  but  on  second  thought 
I  remembered  that  I  had  promised  to  come  and 
that  he  expected  me.  I  put  on  as  good  a  face  as 
I  could,  and  feeling  very  uncomfortable — about 
as  much  at  home,  in  fact,  as  a  sheep  in  a  lion's 
skin — presented  myself  at  the  White  House  and 
edged  timidly  into  the  background,  an  uncertain 
and  inconspicuous  shadow  in  the  gay  throng. 

I  would  shake  hands  with  the  President  and 
fade  away.  I  thought  I  would  be  a  temporary, 
rather  than  a  permanent,  exhibit. 

He  motioned  me  toward  him. 

As  I  advanced,  the  major-domo  stopped  me 
and  said,  "Name,  please." 

The   President  heard  him  and  called,  "Oh, 


16    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

there  is  no  need  of  introducing  Mike  to  me,"  at 
the  same  time  reaching  out  and  drawing  me 
toward  him.  But  the  President's  sharp  eye 
caught  me  unawares  while  I  was  trying  to  push 
my  shoulders  further  into  the  coat,  thus  to 
make  the  sleeves  seem  not  so  ridiculously  long. 

"Hello,  Mike!"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm  glad  to 
see  you." 

He  must  have  noted  my  discomfort  and  em- 
barrassment, read  it  in  my  face;  for,  leaning 
over,  he  whispered,  "It's  all  right,  Mike.  You 
look  first-rate/' 

It  was  a  great  relief ;  my  features  relaxed  and 
I  breathed  freer.  Indeed,  I  stayed  for  some 
tune,  enjoying  it  thoroughly.  I  could  not  ob- 
serve that  I  attracted  any  unfavorable  attention 
and,  concluding  that  my  appearance  was  not 
nearly  as  bad  as  I  thought,  gave  the  matter  no 
further  concern. 

On  the  evening  of  March  3,  1904,  the  day  be- 
fore the  inauguration,  between  five  and  six 
o'clock,  the  President  and  I  had  a  "go"  of  some 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    17 

ten  rounds.  He  was  as  happy  as  a  schoolboy 
as  he  stripped  for  the  fray. 

''After  the  inauguration  to-morrow,"  he  said, 
"I  go  out  to  the  Rockies  on  a  hunt  for  four  or 
five  weeks  and  live  the  simple  life." 

He  loves  the  Western  mountaineers  and 
plainsmen.  "Now,  Mike,"  he  said,  "we  must 
have  a  good,  long  bout  this  evening.  It'll 
brighten  me  up  for  to-morrow,  which  will  be  a 
trying  day." 

We  boxed  the  ten  hard,  long  rounds.  He  had 
improved  so  much  in  his  practice  with  me  that 
winter  that  I  had  to  resort  to  all  the  strategy 
that  my  experience  had  taught  me.  After  the 
fifth  round  I  felt  like  calling  a  halt,  but  did  not 
want  to  appear  to  be  a  quitter.  We  were  hav- 
ing it  hot  and  heavy;  in  an  exchange  I  tried  to 
land  a  right-hand  body  blow,  ducking  to  avoid 
a  left-hand  counter.  Instead  he  struck  me  a 
flush  right-hander  on  the  top  of  the  head,  knock- 
ing me  sprawling  to  the  mat.  The  blow  jarred 
me  quite  a  bit.  As  I  got  to  my  feet,  he  said : 


18    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

" That's  a  good  make-believe  knock-down, 
Mike."  Evidently  he  did  not  realize  how  hard 
he  hit  me. 

"Mr.  President,"  I  rejoined,  "I  would  not  let 
even  you  knock  me  down  if  I  could  help  it."  I 
felt  a  bit  nettled.  We  started  in  again,  ham- 
mer and  tongs,  and  I  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for 
his  clever  play  with  the  left  and  follow  with 
the  right. 

I  will  say  right  here  I  never  was  more  ex- 
tended with  any  man  I  ever  boxed  with  than  in 
this  go.  At  the  close  he  was  perspiring  pro- 
fusely, but  seemed  fresh  enough  to  go  much 
longer.  I  sat  down  and  began  to  puff.  He  was 
sitting  beside  me  and  said,  "Mike,  did  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  you  are  going  to  march  in  the 
parade  with  the  Catholic  Protectory  Band  of 
New  York  to-morrow?  If  so,  I  would  like  to 
have  you  ask  Mr.  Ryan,  the  bandmaster,  to 
have  his  band  play  'Garry  Owen'  as  it  passes 
the  reviewing  stand." 

I  said,  "I  will  certainly  do  so,  Mr.  President, 
with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    19 

This  is  the  great  Irish  fighting  air,  which  was 
played  by  Irish  bagpipes  at  the  famous  battle 
of  Vinegar  Hill,  in  Ireland,  against  the  British 
troops.  The  air  so  inspired  the  Irishmen  that 
they  repulsed  the  regular  British  soldiers  with 
their  musketry  and  cannons,  although  they  had 
nothing  in  their  hands  but  pitchforks  and  pikes ; 
and  gained  them  the  victory. 

It  was  to  this  same  tune  that  Ouster  led  his 
valiant  troop  of  cavalry  to  death  in  the  battle 
of  the  Little  Big  Horn. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  the  band  head- 
quarters, which  I  had  found  after  an  all-night 
search,  and  delivered  my  message  to  Bandmas- 
ter Ryan.  He  said,  "Did  the  President  say 
that?"  I  replied,  "You  may  rely  upon  it." 
"Well."  said  he,  "I'll  play  it  as  he  never  heard 
it  played  before." 

That  afternoon  we  marched  down  the  avenue, 
turned  the  corner  at  the  Treasury  Building, 
Fifteenth  Street  and  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and 
the  eighty  buglers  which  comprised  the  boy 


20    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

band  began  the  first  stanza  of  " Garry  Owen." 
The  President,  hearing  them  coming,  clapped 
his  hands,  saying,  "Here  they  come!  here  they 
come!"  He  was  so  delighted  that,  when  they 
were  passing,  he  shouted,  "Well  done,  boys! 
well  done!"  As  I  came  along  in  the  rear  of 
the  band,  the  President  spied  me  and  called  out, 
"Hello  there,  Mike!  How  are  you,  old  man?" 

Vice-President  Fairbanks  was  on  the  review- 
ing stand,  and,  as  I  was  informed  afterward, 
he  inquired,  "Who  is  this  Mike?"  He  was  told 
that  it  was  Professor  Mike  Donovan,  who 
had  been  boxing  with  the  President.  He  said, 
"Very  interesting,  indeed." 

The  bandmaster  and  the  boys  were  extremely 
proud  of  the  greeting  they  received  from  the 
President,  and  so  was  I. 


CHAPTEK  n 

KATE  CAREW'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  MB 

I  CAN'T  give  any  better  story  of  my  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Eoosevelt,  and  my  own  life,  than 
that  given  in  the  World  by  Miss  Kate  Carew: 

A  commanding  figure  looms  over  the  national 
horizon.  A  formidable  figure,  forsooth — the  fig- 
ure of  Prof.  "Mike"  Donovan,  the  savant  of 
self-defense. 

Through  the  ruck  of  news,  warlike  and  peace- 
ful, from  the  seats  of  the  mighty  came  on  Fri- 
day the  momentous  intelligence  that  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States  had  need  of  Prof. 
Donovan. 

Letters  were  told  of  missives  traced  by  the 
Presidential  pen,  wherein  the  learned  professor 
was  bidden  to  repair  to  Washington  after  the 

91 


22    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

holidays  and  apply  himself  to  the  congenial 
task  of  being  punched  by  the  Chief  Executive 
of  the  nation,  and  in  the  meantime  to  recom- 
mend a  local  savant  worthy  of  the  minor  honor 
of  being  punched  by  the  Chief  Executive's 
progeny. 

Hence  this  hurried  narrative  of  a  seance  with 
Prof.  Donovan.  Not  easily  was  it  engineered, 
for  the  professor  is  as  modest  as  he  is  learned, 
and  he  was  greatly  distressed  at  the  news  of  the 
Presidential  command  having  become  public 
through  the  indiscretion  of  a  friend  in  such  a 
way  as  to  cast  upon  him,  as  he  feared,  the  odium 
of  having  boasted  of  the  Presidential  friend- 
ship. But  let  it  be  proclaimed  at  once  that  Prof. 
Donovan  is  incapable — except  perhaps  in  the 
exercise  of  his  important  art — of  doing  any- 
thing to  anger  any  right-minded  person. 

Altogether,  there  were  six  of  us  present,  but 
only  four  really  counted — the  Professor,  the 
Scientist,  Capt.  Jack  Crawford  and  I.  The  two 
that  didn't  count  were  the  Boy  and  the  Chape- 
ron. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    23 

Take  my  word  for  it,  it  would  do  any  man 
good  to  associate  with  Prof.  Donovan.  He  is 
as  wholesome  as  a  big  red  apple.  I  never  en- 
vied the  President  of  the  United  States  before, 
but  I  do  now,  because  he  can  send  for  his  old 
"Mike"  and  have  him  come.  Everybody  calls 
him  "Mike" — the  President,  the  Scientist, 
Capt.  Jack  Crawford  and  everybody.  I'd  like 
to  call  him  "Mike"  myself,  and  I  don't  think 
he'd  mind,  and  perhaps  some  day — but  so  far 
I've  only  met  him  once. 

Prof.  Donovan — it's  unnaturally  formal,  but 
I  can't  help  it — Prof.  Donovan,  then,  is  bald 
and  snowy  and  russet-cheeked  and  as  spry  as 
a  kitten.  His  shoulders  are  broad,  of  course, 
and  his  figure  is  all  that  doth  become  a  man  and 
an  athlete,  and  his  hands  are  large  and  knotty 
— one  of  them  misshapen  from  an  injury  in  a 
fight.  But  whereas  shoulders  and  shape  and 
fists  are  the  most  important  things  about  the 
ordinary  pugilist,  the  most  important  thing 
about  Prof.  "Mike"  is  his  face. 


24    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Such  a  fine  old  face  Prof.  "Mike"  has !  You 
might  search  through  many  colleges  of  more 
esoteric  learning  than  his  without  finding  an- 
other professor  with  such  a  fine  old  face.  It's 
as  kind  a  face  as  you've  ever  seen,  and  as  sim- 
ple and  as  childlike,  and  yet  in  a  subtle  way 
it's  the  face  of  a  fighter,  too. 

It's  the  face  of  a  fighter  who  fights  without  a 
spark  of  malice — who  can  fight  a  man  and  love 
him  and  be  loved  by  him.  And  that's  the  sort 
of  man  Prof.  *  *  Mike  "is.  The  business  of  fight- 
ing has  given  him  some  mannerisms — a  curi- 
ously alert  way  of  cocking  his  head  to  one  side, 
a  flashing  glance  up  from  under  his  eyebrows,  a 
certain  swing  of  the  body  and  a  dancing  quick- 
ness in  the  gestures  of  his  hands — but  socially 
he  is  the  gentlest  of  men,  full  of  quaint  humor 
and  quick  sympathy  and  very  courtly  to  the 
other  sex.  Nor  is  the  other  sex  unreciprocal. 
It  is  easy  to  picture  Prof.  "Mike"  the  petted 
center  of  a  circle  of  duchesses. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    25 

A  STRICTLY  PERSONAL  QUESTION 

I  asked  him  how  old  he  was,  and  the  Scientist 
interjected:  "Whatever  Mike  tells  you,  add 
twenty  years  to  it."  Whereupon  the  Professor 
and  the  Scientist  had  a  verbal  sparring  match 
replete  with  jovial  banter  and  appertaining 
chiefly  to  a  silver  championship  belt  of  Prof. 
"Mike's,"  which  the  Scientist  insists  upon  re- 
garding as  the  champion  liar's  belt,  at  the  same 
time  admitting  that  not  till  he  himself  is  dead 
will  the  Professor  be  entitled  to  wear  it.  How- 
ever, the  squabble  ended  in  a  definite  statement 
on  the  part  of  the  Professor  that  he  is  fifty- 
eight,  and  has  been  boxing  for  thirty-nine  years, 
and  his  blue  eyes  danced  with  pride  as  he  said 
it.  Did  I  forget  to  mention  that  his  eyes  are 
blue?  They  are  very  blue,  indeed. 

I  wished  to  know  how  he  happened  to  become 
a  boxer. 

"Why,  I  was  born  for  it!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Just  as  soon  as  I  was  old  enough  to  put  up 


26    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

my  hands  I  couldn't  help  putting  'em  up" — 
and  up  went  the  hands  in  that  dancing  gesture 
I  have  spoken  of. 

He  went  on  to  tell  how  his  brother  Jerry,  who 
seems  to  have  been  a  famous  fighter  before  him, 
tried  to  discourage  him  from  exercising  this  in- 
born tendency,  and  gave  him  many  a  thrashing 
for  fighting  other  small  boys,  and  made  him 
very  sore  at  heart,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  until 
one  day  somebody  remonstrated  with  Jerry, 
saying,  '  *  Jerry,  what  makes  you  act  so  mean  to 
that  kid?  He'll  grow  up  and  be  a  credit  to  you 
if  you  treat  him  right,  but  if  you  go  on  pound- 
ing him  like  that,  people  will  think  you're  afraid 
of  his  cutting  you  out  some  day."  After  which 
the  Spartan  Jerry  ceased  from  troubling,  and 
the  infant  Mike  made  prodigious  strides  in  the 
art  of  fighting. 

The  Scientist  questioned'  him  about  his  first 
fight,  and  how  he  felt  over  it. 

" Golly!  I  was  the  proudest  thing  you  ever 
saw ! ' '  exclaimed  the  Professor. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    27 

"Did  you  win?" 

"No,  I  lost  on  a  foul,  but  it  wasn't  my  fault. 
You  see,  I  didn't  know  the  rules  properly,  and 
when  the  other  fellow  kept  dropping  on  his 
knees  to  escape  punishment  it  made  me  mad, 
and  I  just  picked  him  up  and  walloped  him 
good,  like  this" — and  the  Professor  threw  his 
right  arm  around  an  imaginary  neck,  dragged 
an  imaginary  head  up  to  the  level  of  his  hip  and 
bombarded  an  imaginary  face  with  his  left. 

There  were  more  reminiscences  of  Fistiana, 
and  I  wish  I  had  time  to  repeat  some  of  them. 
And  there  were  learned  disquisitions  on  the  finer 
points  of  the  art  and  on  the  comparative  advan- 
tages of  gloves  and  bare  knuckles.  Briefly,  a 
more  cutting  blow  can  be  delivered  with  the 
knuckles,  but  a  harder  and  perhaps  more  dam- 
aging one  with  a  glove,  because  the  hand  is  pro- 
tected from  injury,  and  a  man  accustomed  to 
boxing  with  gloves  is  in  great  danger  of  dis- 
abling his  hands  if  he  become  involved  in  an 
impromptu  fight  with  bare  hands,  because  his 
tendency  will  be  to  strike  recklessly  hard. 


28    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Moreover,  Prof.  Donovan's  experience  goes 
to  show  that  a  boxer's  training  hampers  him  in 
a  street  fight,  because  he  instinctively  observes 
the  rules  of  fair  play,  greatly  to  his  own  detri- 
ment. There  was  a  story  illustrating  this,  and 
I  wish  I  had  time  to  tell  it  in  his  own  words.  He 
was  set  upon  by  a  gang  of  roughs  while  walk- 
ing home  from  the  New  York  Athletic  Club,  and 
having  spent  the  day  sparring  with  young 
stockbrokers  and  the  like,  he  was  very  tired. 

" Golly!  I  was  tired,"  he  said.  "I  was  so 
tired  that  I  walked  along  with  my  shoulders 
bent  like  an  old  man." 

I  could  imagine  what  he  looked  like — a  nice, 
venerable  little  old  gentleman  dragging  himself 
home  to  a  supper  of  gruel  and  dry  toast. 

No  feminine  pen  could  do  justice  to  that  Ho- 
meric combat.  Not  that  Prof.  Donovan  nar- 
rated it  Homerically.  He  was  strictly  technical, 
but  one  could  read  between  the  lines  that  it  was 
a  showy  affair.  I  forget  how  many  men  in 
buckram  there  were,  but  our  Professor  had 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    29 

knocked  down  a  few  of  them  and  never  thought 
of  kicking  or  hitting  below  the  belt,  till  suddenly 
he  was  overthrown  by  reinforcements  and  given 
a  terrific  kicking.  And  even  then  there  was 
fight  left  in  him  to  such  an  extent  that  when  a 
policeman  appeared  he  was  in  danger  of  being 
taken  for  the  aggressor  if  a  sympathetic  by- 
stander had  not  explained  that  the  old  gentle- 
man had  not  started  the  fight — a  climax  which 
the  Professor  unfolded  with  much  humor. 

PAEKIES  A  DELICATE  ONE 

"What  sort  of  a  boxer  is  President  Roose- 
velt?" I  inquired. 

Professor  "Mike"  cocked  a  blue  eye  at  me, 
wrinkled  up  his  scarred  forehead  and  said: 

"Did  you  ever  hear  Capt.  Jack  recite  that 
great  poem  of  his,  'Where  the  Hand  of  God  Is 
Seen'!  No?  Oh,  Capt.  Jack,  will  you  oblige 
with  'Where  the  Hand  of  God  Is  Seen'?" 

Capt.    Jack,    nothing    loath,    obliged    with 


30    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

"Where  the  Hand  of  God  Is  Seen,"  and  for 
some  time  thereafter  nothing  was  said  about 
the  President. 

But  after  a  while  I  induced  Capt.  Jack  to  en- 
tertain the  Scientist,  the  Boy  and  the  Chaperon 
with  the  story  of  his  life,  including  his  opinion 
of  Buffalo  Bill  and  the  evils  of  cigarette  smok- 
ing, and  I  drew  the  Professor  away.  He  looked 
alarmed. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  anybody  like  Capt. 
Jack?"  he  said.  "Did  you  ever  hear  such  love- 
ly sentiments,  ma'am?  By  golly!  I'd  give  any- 
thing to  have  his  talent.  He  can  talk  right 
ahead  without  stopping  for  two  hours.  I  never 
heard  such  language!" 

Gently  but  firmly  I  detached  his  attention 
from  Capt.  Jack,  and  directed  it  toward  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  and  when  I 
made  it  clear  that  I  was  not  going  to  try  to 
pump  him  about  Mr.  Roosevelt 's  letters  to  him 
or  his  projected  engagement  at  the  White 
House,  he  was  greatly  relieved  and  didn't  mind 
saying  everything  else  that  was  in  his  heart. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    31 

"But  it  makes  me  feel  bad,  those  letters  be- 
ing told  about  in  the  papers,"  he  said.  "How- 
ever, the  President  knows  me,  and  he  will  know 
I  didn't  do  it  intentionally.  I  wouldn't  have 
told  the  newspaper  boys  about  it  for  the  world. 
You've  no  idea  what  a  nice  man  the  President 
is.  He's  the  kindest,  best,  truest  man  I  ever 
met.  Oh,  I've  known  him  and  boxed  with  him 
a  long  time.  He  calls  me  'Mike,'  and  we're 
great  friends." 

"Well,  you  don't  really  mind  if  I  repeat  all 
the  nice  things  you  say  about  him?" 

"Oh,  no;  not  a  bit.  I  couldn't  say  too  many 
nice  things  about  him." 

"Is  he  a  hard  hitter!" 

"Oh,  my  golly!  yes.  He  comes  right  at  you 
hot  and  heavy.  And  strong — why,  he's  got  an 
arm  as  hard  as  a  rock!" 

"Is  he  a  good-tempered  boxer?" 

"Oh,  golly !  yes.  He  wouldn't  be  such  a  good 
boxer  if  he  wasn't  good-tempered.  Why,  he's 
a  happy  man.  He  was  born  with  that  smile." 


32    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

The  Professor  set  his  teeth  and  peeled  his  lips 
in  an  imitation  of  the  much-caricatured  Roose- 
velt grin.  "He  was  born  with  it,  and  he's  got 
it  in  his  heart.  No  matter  what  happens,  that 
smile  is  there.  I  tell  you,  he 's  a  happy  man. ' ' 

A  GOOD  POLITICAL  PBOPHET 

"So  you  didn't  vote  for  Parker?" 

Professor  "Mike"  looked  at  me  comically, 
and  if  I  had  been  a  man  I  think  he  would  have 
given  me  a  playful  tap  on  the  ribs. 

"Ha!  ha!  Not  Mike.  Oh,  I  knew  how  that 
election  was  going  to  come  out.  I  read  a  lot, 
you  know.  I  get  a  great  many  papers  from  all 
over  the  country,  and  I  knew  that  a  powerful 
lot  of  Democrats  were  going  to  vote  for  Roose- 
velt. 

"And  then  on  Election  Day  I  ran  into  a  party 
of  friends  of  mine  at  the  polls,  all  Irish,  who 
had  never  voted  anything  but  the  Democratic 
ticket,  and  they  said,  'Well,  Mike,  here  goes  a 
bunch  of  good  votes  for  Ted.' 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    33 

"The  fact  is  that  President  Roosevelt  is  more 
democratic  than  any  Democrat.  He's  a  demo- 
cratic Republican — that's  what  he  is.  Why, 
he's  got  democracy  in  his  blood.  Look  at  his 
uncle,  Robert  B.,  who's  a  regular  old-time  sage, 
or  whatchermaycallem,  of  Tammany  Hall.  Yes, 
I  always  say  that  the  President  is  a  democratic 
Republican." 

And  Prof.  "Mike"  cocked  his  head  sideways 
with  a  glance  of  simple  satisfaction  at  having 
thus  reconciled  his  hero-worship  with  his  in- 
stinctive politics. 

"Has  short-sightedness  any  bearing  on  box- 
ing?" I  asked. 

•  "Not  if  it  ain't  too  bad.  A  boxer  don't  need 
good  enough  sight  to  see  the  color  of  the  other 
man's  eyes;  all  he  needs  is  to  be  able  to  see 
the  shifting  motions  of  his  arms  and  body" — 
with  the  pantomime  of  arms  and  torso  which  is 
second  nature  to  Prof.  "Mike." 

"And  the  President— he  is  short-sighted, 
isn't  he?" 


34    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

"Yes,  and  lie  wants  to  get  in  close — wants  to 
get  right  at  you  all  the  time.'* 

"Did  he  ever  hurt  you?" 

"Did  he  ever  hurt  me?  He  gave  me  a  black 
ear  once!" 

We  live  and  learn.  I  had  never  heard  of  a 
black  ear  before.  Prof.  "Mike"  spoke  of  this 
peculiar  decoration  indulgently,  not  without  a 
touch  of  pride. 

"Yes,  I  had  been  boxing  with  him  one  night, 
and  brother  Jerry  was  with  me,  and  when  we 
came  away  from  the  mansion" — I  think  this 
referred  to  the  Governor's  mansion  at  Albany 
— "I  felt  a  sort  of  numbness  and  burning  in  my 
ear,  just  like  frost-bite,  and  as  it  was  a  bitter 
cold,  frosty  night,  I  says  to  Jerry,  'By  golly! 
Jerry,  my  ear's  frost-bitten!'  And  I  kep'  on 
rubbing  and  rubbing  it,  and  went  to  bed  firmly 
believing  it  was  a  case  of  frost-bite.  But  next 
morning  brother  Jerry  looked  at  my  ear,  and 
he  laughed  and  said,  'It  ain't  a  frost-bite  you've 
got,  Mike;  it's  a  sting!'  And,  sure  enough,  my 
ear  was  all  black." 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    35 

"And  you  hadn't  felt  it  at  the  time  Mr. 
Eoosevelt  struck  the  dreadful  blow?" 

"No — that  is,  I  did  feel  a  slight  sting,  but  I 
was  so  used  to  that  that  I  didn't  notice  it." 

"Have  you  ever  boxed  with  the  President's 
boys?" 
:     "Oh,  my,  yes!" 

"How  do  they  box?" 

"Oh,  they  are  splendid,  manly  little  chaps, 
full  of  fight.  They  come  right  at  you." 

"Do  you  think  any  of  them  will  develop  into 
as  good  a  boxer  as  Mr.  Eoosevelt?" 

".Well,  it's  difficult  to  tell  about  boys.  Judg- 
ing from  present  performances,  they're  all  go- 
ing to  turn  out  fine.  Why,  there's  little  Teddy, 
who  ain't  the  strongest-looking  in  the  family, 
he  uses  his  hands  just  like  his  father — comes 
right  in  at  you." 

I  think  that  was  all  about  the  President  and 
his  boys.  Ah,  if  I  only  had  space  and  leisure 
to  tell  all  the  observation  and  humor  and  phi- 
losophy that  was  shed  graciously  upon  me  by 
Prof.  "Mike"  Donovan. 


36    THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

But,  at  all  events,  please  be  consoled  with  the 
thought  that  the  President  of  the  United  States 
will  not  be  harmed  by  association  with  good 
Prof.  "Mike." 


CHAPTER  HI 

I  MEET  YOUNG  JOHN  L.   SULLIVAN 

IT  was  in  the  fall  of  1879,  after  my  return 
from  California,  that  I  went  to  Boston  to  fill  an 
engagement  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum  Theater. 
One  afternoon  while  I  was  sitting  reading  in 
my  room  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  John 
Sullivan,  known  as  the  "Highland  Strong 
Boy, ' '  was  introduced  to  me  by  a  friend.  After 
we  had  talked  for  a  while  about  fighting-men, 
and  I  had  a  chance  to  look  him  over,  I  said, 
''You  are  a  rugged,  strong  young  fellow."  This 
seemed  to  please  him,  although  he  was  very 
modest  in  his  remarks.  However,  he  seemed  to 
have  a  grudge  against  Paddy  Ryan,  who  was 
the  most  promising  candidate  for  the  champion- 
ship at  that  time.  I  asked  him  why,  and  he 

87 


38    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

said,  "I  happened  to  be  in  the  theater  once 
when  Ryan  and  Joe  Gross  were  boxing.  Eyan 
struck  Goss  when  he  was  down,  and  he  refused 
to  continue.  I  offered  to  take  Goss's  place,  but 
Ryan  said,  'You  go  get  a  reputation  first.'  ' 
Sullivan  never  forgot  that  remark.  He  said  if 
he  ever  got  a  chance  he  believed  he  would  make 
a  good  showing,  and  added,  "I  think  I  can  hit 
as  hard  as  any  of  them,  and  I  know  I  am  game, 
too."  I  rather  liked  the  young  fellow's  man- 
ner of  expressing  himself,  and  said  to  Jim  El- 
liott, who  was  in  Boston  with  me  at  the  time, 
"That  young  fellow  Sullivan,  in  my  opinion, 
will  make  a  champion  some  day.  He  is  a  de- 
termined-looking fellow.  He  has  asked  me  to 
give  him  some  pointers,  and  I  intend  to  box 
with  him  to-morrow  up  in  my  bedroom."  El- 
liott, who  was  a  very  jealous  fellow,  said,  "You 
get  stuck  on  every  man  you  see."  He  could 
not  bear  to  hear  any  man  spoken  well  of  in  his 
presence.  I  replied,  "I  think  you  are  jealous." 
(I  took  great  pleasure  in  teasing  him  on  ao- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    39 

count  of  his  evident  jealousy.)  Elliott  retorted, 
' '  What !  jealous  of  that  mug  ! "  ' '  Well, ' '  I  said, 
"maybe  all  of  us  may  be  taking  off  our  hats  to 
him  some  day."  Elliott  and  I  were  arranging 
big  boxing  exhibitions,  and  Sullivan  wanted  me 
to  put  his  name  on  the  bill.  He  said  he  would 
box  with  anybody.  I  thought  well  of  him,  and 
asked  Elliott  to  give  him  a  show,  but  he  refused. 
I  told  Sullivan  that  Elliott  would  not  consent 
to  having  his  name  connected  with  our  exhibi- 
tion. Here  Sullivan  made  a  remark  that  I  have 
never  forgotten.  "Well,  some  day  maybe  they 
will  all  be  glad  to  put  my  name  on  their  bills." 
A  prediction  which,  as  every  one  knows,  came 
true. 

An  abscess  forming  on  my  left  elbow,  I 
was  unable  to  keep  my  engagement  to  box  with 
Sullivan,  as  I  had  promised,  and  had  to  return 
home  for  treatment.  When  I  thought  I  had  re- 
covered again,  I  made  an  engagement  to  return 
to  Boston  to  box  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum 
Theater.  I  was  matched  to  fight  George  Rook 


40  "TH'E^OOS'EVfeLT  THAT  I  KNOW 

for  the  middle-weight  championship  with  bare 
knuckles,  The  fight  was  to  be  held  in  Canada. 
In  Boston  I  was  to  box  Tom  Drone  nightly  dur- 
ing the  week.  Tom  was  a  very  good  local  boxer. 
It  was  customary  at  that  time  to  give  the  star 
a  benefit  on  Friday  night.  I  had  to  look  around 
for  some  good  man  to  box  with  me  on  that  oc- 
casion, and  I  thought  of  Sullivan.  I  went  to 
him  and  said,  '  *  Sullivan,  you  have  told  me  that 
none  of  the  big  fellows  will  give  you  a  chance 
to  show  what  you  can  do.  If  you  will  box  with 
me  on  Friday  night  and  make  a  good  showing 
I  will  take  you  to  New  York  with  me  during  my 
training  for  Rook,  and  after  my  fight  with  him 
is  over  I  will  match  you  with  Paddy  Ryan  or 
any  of  the  big  fellows." 

He  jumped  at  the  chance. 

Friday  evening  came  and  Sullivan  was  on 
hand.  The  news  got  about  that  there  would  be 
a  fight  worth  seeing,  and  a  big  house  was  the 
consequence. 

When  I  saw  him  stripped  I  realized  that  Sul- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    41 

livan  was  one  of  the  best  men  physically  that  I 
had  ever  seen.  Like  all  well-made  men,  he 
looked  bigger  with  his  clothes  off  than  at  any 
other  time. 

He  was,  at  that  time,  a  big,  raw-boned  fellow 
and  carried  absolutely  no  superfluous  flesh.  He 
had  a  tremendous  trunk  and  arms,  and  was  very 
wide  and  flexible  in  the  shoulders.  His  legs 
were  lighter  in  proportion  than  the  rest  of  his 
body.  This  accounted  for  the  wonderful  speed 
that  he  displayed. 

Before  we  went  on  I  said  to  him,  command- 
ingly,  "Here,  young  fellow,  you  go  in  there  and 
dress,"  pointing  to  a  side  dressing-room.  He 
said,  * '  All  right, ' '  in  his  deep,  gruff  voice.  Dick 
Fitzgerald,  the  manager  of  the  theater,  went 
into  his  room  and  said,  "What  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

Sullivan  replied,  in  his  bass  rumble,  "Why, 
the  best  man  wins."  Fitzgerald  then  came  into 
my  dressing-room  and  told  me. 

"He'll  get  what  lots  of  other  big  fellows  have 
got,"  I  replied. 


42    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

We  came  on  the  stage,  stripped  for  the  event. 

I  kept  glaring  at  Sullivan,  but  he  did  not  seem 
to  be  the  least  bit  uneasy,  as  most  young  fel- 
lows would  be  under  the  circumstances. 

When  time  was  called  I  sailed  right  in  to  in- 
timidate him  at  the  outset  if  possible,  for  it  is 
a  well-known  fact  that  boxers,  like  actors,  often 
suffer  from  stage  fright  when  first  they  face  a 
big  crowd. 

Sullivan,  far  from  being  intimidated,  rushed 
at  me  like  a  panther.  He  forgot  the  fact 
that  he  was  facing  a  champion  before  a 
crowded  house,  being  inspired  by  his  fighting 
instinct  alone.  This,  I  will  admit,  disconcerted 
me  for  a  moment.  I  had  a  true  fighting  man 
before  me.  We  mixed  it  for  a  time,  but  I  soon 
felt  that  such  a  course  would  be  a  dangerous 
one  for  me  to  pursue,  as  he  was  quick  as  a  cat 
and  very  strong.  In  fact  he  was  the  strongest 
man  I  had  ever  met,  and  I  had  boxed  nearly 
every  big  man  of  reputation  up  to  that  time, 
Paddy  Ryan  included,  and  was  considered  the 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    43 

cleverest  man  in  the  ring.  I  suppose  if  I  hadn't 
been  my  goose  would  have  been  cooked  that 
night,  for  never  in  my  life  did  I  have  to  do  such 
clever  ducking  and  side-stepping.  I  proved  my 
cleverness  by  avoiding  a  knock-out  in  the  first 
round.  After  a  hard  round  he  slowed  up,  be- 
ing somewhat  tired  from  the  tremendously  fast 
pace  he  had  gone.  Of  course,  most  of  his  blows 
went  wild  of  the  mark,  and  you  can  rest  as- 
sured that  the  mark  in  question  was  my  head. 
His  strength  and  speed  tired  me,  and  I  fought 
the  second  round  rather  cautiously,  but  kept 
him  busy  by  feinting  and  drawing  his  rush,  each 
time  side-stepping  and  trying  to  tire  him  out, 
which  I  succeeded  in  doing.  We  fought  four 
rounds,  and  never  before  in  all  my  life  did  I 
feel  so  exhausted  and  tired ;  and,  big  and  strong 
as  Sullivan  was,  he  seemed  as  tired  as  I.  Of 
course,  he  wasted  more  strength  than  I  by  his 
great  efforts. 

I  broke  the  wrist  bone  of  my  right  hand 
in  the  third  round,  and  also  got  my  thumb 


44    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

out  of  joint.  These  injuries  bothered  me  a  great 
deal  during  the  rest  of  the  bout.  However,  I 
still  thought  I  had  him,  as  I  felt  he  was  tiring 
rapidly.  When  the  fourth  round  came  I  kept 
jabbing  him  in  the  face  with  my  left.  He  used 
his  right  hand  as  a  blacksmith  would  use  a 
sledge-hammer  pounding  a  piece  of  iron  into 
shape.  This  blow  afterward  became  famous. 
He  hit  me  on  top  of  the  head  several  times,  and 
his  blows  made  me  see  stars  of  different  colors. 
Only  one  who  has  had  a  like  experience  can  ap- 
preciate my  feelings  at  that  moment — fighting 
a  comparatively  unknown  man  who  had  practi- 
cally nothing  to  lose,  while  I  had  my  reputation 
at  stake  and  was  laboring  under  the  handicap 
of  a  broken  right  hand. 

The  fourth  round  ended  with  honors  even, 
though  I  think  I  had  slightly  the  better  of  it. 

As  I  lay  in  bed  that  night,  nursing  my  sore 
hand,  and  thought  it  all  over,  I  felt  far  from 
satisfied  with  myself,  but  finally  concluded  that 
I  had  just  fought  the  coming  champion  of  the 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    45 

prize-ring.  My  hand  pained  me  greatly  all 
night.  In  the  morning  I  obtained  relief  by  go- 
ing to  a  doctor  and  having  it  set  in  splints. 

On  returning  to  my  hotel  it  seemed  to  me  that 
every  Irishman  who  lived  on  Boston  Highlands, 
the  location  of  Sullivan's  home,  was  there  wait- 
ing for  me.  There  were  at  least  fifty  in  all.  They 
plied  me  with  all  kinds  of  questions  as  to  what 
I  thought  of  the  young  fellow,  and  to  all  I  re- 
plied that,  in  my  mind,  he  was  the  coming  cham- 
pion and  a  fine  strong  fellow.  I  never  will  for- 
get what  one  old  man  said:  "I  have  known  his 
father  and  mother  for  many  years,  and  decent 
people  they  are,  too.  Johnny  was  always  a 
strong  gossoon,  and  I  always  thought  he  had 
the  makings  of  a  good  man."  The  bar  of  the 
hotel  was  doing  a  big  business.  My  shins  be- 
came rather  numb  standing  against  it,  when, 
to  my  great  relief,  Sullivan  came  in,  and  there- 
by afforded  me  a  chance  to  slip  away  from 
his  admirers  and  friends. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  Sullivan's  career. 


46    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Others  have  claimed  they  brought  him  out, 
but  the  man  who  tries  a  man  out  and  risks  his 
reputation  in  so  doing  is  entitled  to  the  credit. 
I  am  sure  Sullivan  will  vouch  for  everything  I 
say  in  this  matter.  It  was  immediately  after  his 
bout  with  me  that  he  became  a  great  card. 

After  this  go  with  Sullivan  I  returned  home 
and,  although  my  hand  was  very  sore,  started 
to  train  for  my  fight  with  Rook,  thinking  that 
it  would  be  well  in  time  for  the  fight,  which  was 
three  months  off.  I  was  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment, as  it  did  not  entirely  mend  for  a  year.  The 
following  year,  1881,  I  returned  to  Boston  to 
box  Sullivan  again ;  we  met  in  a  music  hall  and 
had  three  tough  rounds. 

This  bout  caused  such  a  bad  feeling  between 
us  that  we  did  not  speak  for  three  or  four  years. 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  BOX  WITH  SULLIVAN  THEOUGHOUT  THE  COUNTRY 

IN  1884,  when  John  L.  was  making  his  won- 
derful tour  of  America  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific,  knocking  out  every  one  who  had  the 
courage  to  meet  him,  I  received  a  telegram  from 
Al.  Smith,  his  manager,  asking  me  if  I  would 
join  his  combination,  my  duties  to  consist  of 
boxing  with  John  L.  nightly.  After  satisfac- 
tory arrangements  had  been  made  I  agreed.  I 
journeyed  to  New*  Orleans  to  meet  him  there. 
This  was  a  friendly  bout,  which  is  hardly  worth 
mentioning,  other  than  to  say  we  made  a  splen- 
did display  and  received  much  applause.  I 
traveled  with  him  all  through  the  Southern 
States,  drawing  big  houses  everywhere.  <<?•%$ 

Every  one  has  heard  of  John  L.'s  big-heart- 

47 


48    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

edness  and  generosity.  At  all  times  lie  had  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  giving  money  away  right 
and  left,  to  the  worthy  and  unworthy  alike.  Peo- 
ple even  bought  tickets  for  trains  that  he  trav- 
eled on,  in  order  to-  get  a  chance  to  strike  him 
for  money.  Each  one-  had  a  little  tale  prepared 
to  awaken  Sullivan's  sympathies.  I  remem- 
ber an  interesting  case  which  occurred  on  our 
way  from  Montgomery,  Alabama,  to  Savannah, 
Georgia.  A  thin,  threadbare  little  man,  shab- 
bily dressed,  hailed  me  with:  "My  dear  sir,  I 
believe  you  are  one  of  Mr.  Sullivan's  combina- 
tion ;  as  such,  I  wish  you  would  do  me  a  favor. 
I  am  a  Methodist  minister.  My  town  is  a  few 
miles  up  the  road.  Will  you  please  introduce 
me  to  Mr.  Sullivan?" 

I  told  him  that  I  did  not  think  Sullivan 
would  see  him;  but,  at  his  earnest  solici- 
tation, I  went  into  the  smoking  compart- 
ment of  the  Pullman  car  and  told  Sullivan  how 
anxious  the  clergyman  was  to  see  him.  At  first 
he  demurred,  but  I  said,  "John,  this  man  is  a 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    49 

gentleman,  and  has  no  other  object  than  admir- 
ing curiosity."  "Well,  bring  him  in,"  growled 
John.  I  ushered  him  in  and  introduced  him  to 
Sullivan. 

The  clergyman  expressed  his  admiration 
unhesitatingly,  saying,  "Mr.  Sullivan,  I  have 
read  a  great  deal  about  you  and  of  your 
many  generous  deeds,  and  I  pray  God  will  spare 
you  many  years  to  come. ' '  Sullivan  asked  him 
where  his  parish  was  located.  He  told  him  it 
was  only  a  few  miles  on  ahead. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Sullivan,  "that  you  are 
having  a  hard  time  fighting  against  poverty  in 
God's  vineyard?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  minister,  "I  am  having  a 
hard  time.  I  have  started  to  build  a  small 
frame  church,  but  have  had  to  stop  work  on  it 
for  the  want  of  money." 

"That's  too  bad,"  said  John  L.  "Won't 
those  psalm  singers  give  up?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  "all  that  they  can  af- 
ford; but,  you  see,  they  are  all  poor." 


50    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

"Where  is  Frank  Moran?"  said  Sullivan. 
Moran  was  his  financial  secretary.  I  told  him 
in  the  next  car.  "Tell  him  that  I  want  him." 
I  immediately  sent  for  him.  Frank  came  in  and 
Sullivan  said  to  him,  "Give  me  one  hundred 
dollars."  He  did  so,  and  John  L.  handed  it  to 
the  minister,  who  at  first  refused  to  take  it. 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Sullivan!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
did  not  seek  an  introduction  to  you  for  the  pur- 
pose of  getting  money." 

He  was  telling  the  truth,  and  John  L.  knew  it, 
and  that  made  him  more  insistent  that  the  min- 
ister should  take  the  money,  which  he  finally 
did,  and  left  wishing  Sullivan  all  kinds  of  luck 
with  a  "God  bless  you." 

It  may  seem  strange  to  think  that  a-  prize- 
fighter, who  is  of  a  class  generally  condemned 
by  the  clergy,  should  be  the  means  of  assisting 
in  the  building  of  a  church  in  a  little  town  in 
Alabama. 

It  was  apparent  that  the  honestly  expressed 
good  wishes  of  the  little  clergyman  had  an  ef- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    51 

feet  on  John  L.  He  said,  after  the  minister  had 
gone,  that  he  never  derived  so  much  pleasure 
in  giving  away  money. 

On  arriving  at  Chattanooga,  Tennessee,  we 
went  direct  to  the  theater.  As  we  were  strip- 
ping to  go  on  with  the  show,  the  Chief  of  Police 
came  into  the  dressing-room  and,  addressing 
John,  said,  "Are  you  Sullivan?"  "I  am,"  re- 
plied the  latter.  "Well,  you  will  have  to  prove 
it.  A  man  came  here  the  other  day  and  gave  an 
exhibition,  advertising  himself  as  John  L.  Sul- 
livan." 

"Well,  I  am  the  only  John  L.  Sullivan  there 
is.  I  am  not  responsible  for  fakers  who  trade 
on  my  name."  "You  will  have  to  show  me," 
said  the  Chief.  "How?"  asked  John,  adding, 
"I  don't  know  any  one  in  this  town."  He  was 
mad  clear  through  at  the  Chief's  domineering 
tone,  and  told  him  he  would  go  on  with  the  show 
in  spite  of  him.  I  was  afraid  John  L.  would  hit 
this  fellow.  This  I  knew  would  make  no  end  of 


52    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

trouble,  so  I  told  Sullivan  to  go  out  before  the 
audience  and  ask  if  there  was  any  one  there 
who  knew  him  personally. 

He  walked  out  on  the  stage  and  said,  ''Gen- 
tlemen, the  Chief  of  Police  is  here  and  will  not 
allow  me  to  go  on  with  the  show  until  I  prove 
that  I  am  John  L.  Sullivan.  It  seems  some 
faker  has  been  here  and  represented  himself  as 
me.  What  can  I  do?  I  don't  know  a  soul  in 
this  town.  Can  any  of  you  identify  me!" 

A  voice  in  the  crowd  cried  out,  "We  all  know 
you,  John.  You're  all  right.  Go  on  with  the 
show.  The  Chief  is  only  looking  for  cheap  ad- 
vertising." This  was  followed  by  laughter  and 
hisses.  The  Chief  left  without  further  inter- 
ference. 

We  went  on  with  the  show  and  received  a 
great  deal  of  applause.  The  audience  were  much 
pleased  with  the  Chief's  discomfiture,  and  there 
were  cries  of  "You're  all  right,  Sullivan"  from 
all  over  the  house. 

We    next  went  to   Birmingham,   Alabama. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    53 

After  our  performance  John  L.  was  intro- 
duced to  a  couple  of  priests.  He  gave  them 
each  fifty  dollars  for  their  parishes.  They  in- 
formed John  that  they  were  holding  a  fair  for 
the  purpose  of  raising  funds  to  build  a  larger 
church  and  asked  him  to  come.  He  agreed,  and 
they  left  in  high  spirits. 

When  we  had  dressed  we  left  the  theater. 
Sullivan  stopped  at  a  cafe,  but  I  went  on  to  the 
hotel. 

About  half  an  hour  after,  while  I  was  smok- 
ing on  the  hotel  veranda,  the  older  of  the 
priests,  a  fine-looking  man  with  a  rich  Irish  ac- 
cent, rushed  up  in  great  excitement.  He  spied 
me  and  came  over,  wringing  his  hands,  ''What 
shall  I  do?  Oh,  what  shall  I  dor '  he  wailed. 
"I've  promised  the  people  over  at  the  fair  that 
Sullivan  would  be  there.  It's  now  after  eleven 
o'clock,  and  he's  nowhere  in  sight.  My  reputa- 
tion will  be  ruined. ' ' 

I  felt  sorry  for  him,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  I  was  tired  I  told  him,  if  he  would  wait  for 


54    THE  BOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

me  there,  I  thought  I  could  produce  Sullivan. 
He  told  me  to  do  so  would  save  his  good  name. 

I  went  at  once  to  the  cafe  where  John  L.  had 
stopped.  There  he  was,  surrounded  by  a  crowd 
of  admirers.  I  drew  him  aside  and  asked  him 
if  he  intended  to  go  to  the  fair. 

He  did  not  want  to  go,  and  replied,  "No.  I 
gave  the  priests  a  hundred  dollars.  That 
ought  to  satisfy  them."  I  explained  to  him 
that  they  had  taken  him  at  his  word  and  that 
the  people  at  the  fair  expected  him,  and  added 
that  I  thought  he  ought  to  go.  He  finally  con- 
sented, and  we  started  up  to  the  hotel  to  meet 
the  priest. 

He  acted  as  if  I  had  done  him  the  greatest 
possible  service,  and  in  great  good  humor 
started  with  us  to  the  fair. 

It  was  very  funny  to  see  his  satisfaction  and 
high  good  humor;  he  was  even  swaggering  a 
little  as  we  entered  the  hall  and,  raising  his 
hand,  sang  out,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  point- 
ing at  John,  "this  is  the  great  John  L.  Sulli- 
van. I  want  you  to  give  him  a  cheer. ' ' 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    55 

Half  an  hour  before  he  had  been  on  the  verge 
of  tears.  Girls  selling  tickets  for  raffles  and 
lotteries  immediately  surrounded  us  and  begged 
John  to  take  tickets.  They  besieged  him  on 
every  side  and  the  priest  called  to  them,  *  *  Now, 
girls,  don't  impose  on  Mr.  Sullivan."  But  the 
merry  twinkle  in  his  eye,  far  from  deterring 
them,  only  seemed  to  urge  them  on. 

John  L.  handed  out  a  ten  here  and  a  five 
there,  until  he  had  spent  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  He  seemed  to  be  having  a  fine 
time,  too,  joking  with  the  girls  and  chaffing  the 
young  men. 

;When  we  left,  the  priest  escorted  us  to  the 
door  and,  grasping  Sullivan  by  the  hand,  said, 
"God  bless  you,  John" — and  in  a  lower  voice 
— "more  power  to  your  arm." 

When  we  got  outside  I  said,  "Well,  John,  did 
you  enjoy  yourself?" 

"Yes,  Mike,"  he  answered,  "but  did  you  see 
the  way  that  foxy  priest  told  the  girls  'not  to 
impose  on  Mr.  Sullivan'!  I  don't  think  he 


56    THE  BOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

meant  a  word  of  it.  However,  the  money  is  for 
a  good  purpose.  I'm  glad  he  got  it." 

Nothing  of  importance  happened  after  this 
until  we  reached  Memphis,  Tennessee. 

During  this  tour  Sullivan  had  had  trouble 
with  every  one  in  the  company  except  Frank 
Moran,  his  financial  secretary,  and  myself. 
These  disagreements  all  ended  in  one  way.  Sul- 
livan would  knock  the  other  man  down,  and  I 
tell  you  it  was  no  light  thing  to  have  Sullivan 
hit  you  with  his  bare  knuckles. 

I,  having  known  John,  as  I  have  told  you, 
when  he  was  a  beginner  at  Boston,  treated  him 
more  independently  than  any  of  the  others.  If 
he  asked  my  opinion  on  any  subject  I  always 
gave  it  frankly,  and  if  it  didn't  suit  him  I  let 
it  go  at  that.  If  any  other  man  in  the  combina- 
tion had  talked  to  Sullivan  the  way  I  did  it 
would  have  resulted  in  his  getting  a  severe 
beating. 

I  must  say,  however,  that  Sullivan  always 
treated  me  well  and  paid  more  attention  to  my 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    57 

opinions  than  to  those  of  any  one  else.  Proba- 
bly because  he  knew  I  was  not  afraid  of  him 
and  would,  therefore,  tell  him  the  truth. 

I  had  been  through  the  South  before,  and 
knew  a  great  many  people.  Some  of  them  were 
in  hard  circumstances,  and  I  was,  therefore, 
drawing  on  the  treasury  continually.  One  day 
in  Memphis  I  wanted  some  money  to  give  to  an 
old  fellow  who  had  struck  me  for  a  loan  and 
went  to  Moran  for  it  as  usual. 

After  he  had  given  it  to  me  he  said,  "Mike, 
you  and  I  are  the  only  ones  the  Big  Fellow 
hasn't  licked.  I  guess  your  turn  is  next." 

"You  think  so,  do  you?"  I  said.  "Well,  not 
on  your  life.  John  will  never  hit  me. ' ' 

He  must  have  thought  I  was  boasting,  for  he 
laughed  heartily.  He  seemed  sure  I  would  get 
it  in  time.  Late  that  night  he  and  Sullivan  had 
some  words  in  the  latter 's  room,  and  the  upshot 
of  it  was  that  John  L.  hit  him  between  the  eyes, 
knocking  him  down. 

Moran  had  thought  that,  on  account  of  his 


58    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

high  position  in  the  combination,  he  could  talk 
as  he  pleased  to  Sullivan  and  be  exempt  from 
punishment.  I  heard  of  the  affair  the  following 
morning  and  went  at  once  to  Moran's  room.  I 
found  him  with  his  head  bandaged  and  both  eyes 
completely  closed.  I  said  to  him,  "Frank,  old 
boy,  I'm  sorry  for  you,  but  I  wasn't  next,  was 
I?" 

He  laughed  and  said,  "Mike,  you  are  the  only 
one  left  now.  But  you'll  get  it  yet."  I  never 
did,  though. 

That  evening  while  I  was  sitting  in  the  hotel 
corridor  talking  to  some  friends,  I  was  ap- 
proached by  a  tall,  slim  young  chap  who  had  a 
long  neck  like  a  gander. 

"Are  you  Mike  Donovan?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes, "  I  said.    ' '  What  do  you  want  ? ' ' 

He  told  me  he  was  the  man  who  was  to  meet 
Sullivan  that  night,  and  said  he  would  like  to 
see  him.  I  told  him  Sullivan  made  a  practice  of 
never  seeing  the  man  he  was  to  meet  until  they 
were  on  the  stage  together.  "You'll  see  him 
soon  enough,"  I  said. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    59 

The  fellow  was  plainly  scared  and  very  nerv- 
ous. He  asked  me  all  kinds  of  questions,  and 
finally  asked,  "Do  you  think  he  will  knock  me 
out!" 

I  looked  up  at  his  long,  red  neck  and  replied, 
"Young  fellow,  if  he  hits  you  up  there  I'm 
afraid  you  will  have  to  get  a  new  neck."  This 
seemed  to  make  him  angry  and  he  left,  saying 
he  didn't  know  about  that.  I  told  him  he  would 
be  wiser  on  that  point  after  the  bout. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  always  apprehensive 
of  these  bouts.  I  was  afraid  some  one  would  be 
badly  hurt  by  his  head  striking  the  floor  after 
he  had  been  knocked  down,  as  Sullivan  at  that 
time  could  hit  a  terrific  blow,  especially  with  his 
right  hand,  and  none  of  the  men  who  went  on 
with  him,  in  the  hope  of  getting  the  $1,000  he 
offered  to  any  man  who  was  on  his  feet  after 
four  rounds  with  him,  was  a  match  for  him  in 
any  way. 

I  had  stopped  a  couple  of  nice  young  fellows 
from  going  on  with  him  when  they  came  to  me 


60    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

for  advice.  Of  course,  Sullivan  never  knew  any- 
thing about  this. 

While  we  were  stripping  for  the  bouts  that 
night  the  gander-necked  fellow  came  in  with  a 
kind  of  swagger  and,  addressing  John,  said, 
"Are  you  Mr.  Sullivan?"  Without  looking  up, 
John  growled,  "Yes.  What  do  you  want?" 
The  young  fellow  said  he  was  the  man  who  was 
to  spar  with  him  that  night.  John's  only  an- 
swer was  a  grunt,  "Huh!  you  are?" 

The  local  man  was  even  more  nervous  than 
when  he  had  first  spoken  to  me.  He  kept  look- 
ing first  at  Sullivan  and  then  at  me,  then  blurted 
out,  "Are  you  going  to  knock  me  out,  Mr.  Sul- 
livan?" 

John  L.  jumped  up  and,  looking  him  in  the 
eye,  said,  "Young  fellow,  if  you  go  on  that 
stage  with  me  I  will  knock  your  head  off.  You 
do  the  same  to  me,  if  you  can.  Now  go  in  there 
and  put  your  clothes  on,"  pointing  to  a  dress- 
ing-room. 

The  youngster  stripped,  and  we  started  for 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    61 

the  stage,  which  was  in  the  middle  of  the  hall. 

Time  was  called,  and  Sullivan  walked  up  to 
the  scratch,  feinted  with  his  left  and  swung  his 
right  on  the  other's  gander-like  neck.  He 
crashed  forward,  landing  on  the  side  of  his 
head. 

I  was  frightened.  The  young  fellow  had 
fallen  so  hard  I  was  afraid  he  had  fractured 
his  skull. 

Sullivan  was  frightened,  too,  as  he  threw  off 
his  gloves  and  picked  the  man  up  in  his  arms, 
which  he  could  easily  do,  as  the  other  only 
weighed  about  160  pounds,  and  carried  him  to 
a  chair,  where  he  threw  a  bucket  of  water  over 
him.  I  grabbed  the  bucket  and  started  for  the 
dressing-room  for  more  water.  As  I  passed 
through  the  crowd  I  heard  remarks  such  as 
these  on  all  sides:  "The  big  brute — he  ought 

to  be  lynched ! "  ' '  Kill  the  d d  brute ! "  and 

others  of  a  similar  character.  "When  I  got  back 
to  the  stage  I  whispered  to  Sullivan  that  I 
feared  there  might  be  trouble.  He  picked  the 


62    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

young  fellow  up  again  and  carried  him  to  the 
dressing-room,  where  after  a  few  minutes  he 
revived.  We  then  went  back  to  the  stage  to  fin- 
ish our  exhibition.  Sullivan's  treatment  of  his 
opponent  after  he  had  knocked  him  out  caught 
the  crowd  and  he  was  cheered  to  the  echo. 

[When  we  returned  to  the  dressing-room 
" gander-neck"  had  entirely  recovered.  "Young 
fellow,"  said  Sullivan,  "I  can't  let  any  one  take 
the  thousand  I  hang  up,  and  I  cannot  afford  to 
lose  my  reputation,  so  I  have  to  put  fellows  like 
you  out  as  quickly  as  I  can,  but  you  are  a  game 
fellow."  And,  turning  to  his  secretary,  said, 
"Give  him  fifty  dollars,  Jake." 

Sullivan  was  right  when  he  said  this  man 
was  game.  Any  man  is  game  who  goes  on 
with  a  thing  which  he  is  physically  afraid  to 
tackle. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  THE  BRAWNY  SCOT 

OUR  next  stop  was  Hot  Springs,  Arkansas, 
where  we  arrived  about  six  in  the  evening.  We 
went  direct  to  the  hotel  and  from  there  to  the 
theater. 

My  dressing-room  was  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  stage  from  Sullivan,  and  as  I  walked  out, 
after  having  put  on  my  boxing-clothes,  I  saw 
a  great,  raw-boned  man  fully  six  feet  four  in 
height,  with  a  pair  of  shoulders  large  enough 
to  block  a  door. 

"Is  Mustur-r-r  Soolivan  here?"  he  asked  in 
a  Scotch  burr  you  could  have  cut  with  a  knife. 

"Not  yet,"  I  replied.  ".What  do  you  want 
to  see  him  about?" 

".Weel,"  he  said,  "I'm  the  mon  that's  to 


64    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

meet  him  the  nicht.  I  thocht  I'd  like  to  see 
him." 

I  told  him  to  go  into  my  room  and  sit  down 
and  I  would  try  to  find  Sullivan.  I  went  across 
the  stage  to  Sullivan's  dressing-room  and  told 
him  this  fellow  was  the  biggest  and  strongest- 
looking  man  I'd  ever  seen. 

In  the  middle  of  my  description  John  said, 
with  a  grin:  "Oh,  the  bigger  they  are,  the 
harder  they  fall.  Take  those  gloves  and  get  him 
ready.  I  want  to  get  through." 

I  went  back  to  the  other  room  and  told  the 
Scotchman  to  strip.  He  pulled  off  his  shirt  and 
displayed  a  magnificent  pair  of  arms  and 
shoulders.  Then,  tying  his  suspenders  round 
his  waist  for  a  belt,  said  that  he  was  ready. 
His  hands  were  so  big  that  I  thought  I  would 
have  to  cut  the  gloves  to  get  them  on.  They 
were  like  a  pair  of  hams.  I  tried  to  find  a  knife, 
but  couldn't  do  so.  After  a  lot  of  tugging  and 
pulling,  I  finally  got  them  on  and  told  him  to 
follow  me,  which  he  did  as  if  he  had  been  a 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    65 

small  boy.  We  went  upstairs  to  the  stage,  and 
had  hardly  gotten  to  the  wings  when  Sullivan 
ran  up  to  the  big  fellow  and,  pushing  him  out  on 
the  stage,  said,  "Get  over  to  that  corner." 

The  Scotchman  was  so  big  he  actually  had  to 
look  down  at  Sullivan.  He  weighed  at  least  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  and  was  in  excellent 
condition.  He  didn't  have  one  ounce  of  super- 
fluous flesh  on  his  body.  When  time  was  called, 
and  they  advanced  to  the  scratch,  the  contrast 
between  the  two  men  was  even  more  marked. 
Sullivan  looked  like  a  boy,  compared  to  this  fel- 
low. 

As  they  put  their  hands  up,  the  big  fellow 
rushed.  I  really  think  he  believed  he  could  beat 
Sullivan.  John  L.  hit  his  left  arm  a  chop,  in 
order  to  break  down  his  guard,  and  then 
whipped  his  right  to  the  jaw.  The  Scotchman 
fell  like  a  log  near  the  back  scene.  As  I  have 
said,  he  was  remarkably  strong,  and  he  showed 
his  stamina  and  pluck  by  struggling  to  his  feet 
before  he  was  counted  out.  He  stood  facing  the 


6G    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

drop  scene,  with  his  hands  resting  on  it  for  sup- 
port, his  head  drooping  forward.  John  L. 
walked  over  and  turned  him  around,  for  he 
would  never  hit  a  man  whose  back  was  turned. 
Catching  him  by  the  arm  he  walked  the  other 
back  to  the  middle  of  the  stage.  The  big  fellow: 
squared  off  to  fight  again. 

Sullivan  again  swung  his  right  to  the  jaw, 
although  not  with  as  much  force  as  before,  and 
the  Scotchman  fell  forward  in  a  heap — insen- 
sible. 

John,  as  usual,  pulled  off  his  gloves  and  tried 
to  pick  him  up.  He  couldn't  make  it,  however, 
and  four  or  five  of  us  had  to  help  him.  There 
were  a  great  many  people  in  Hot  Springs  who 
thought  Sullivan  would  have  his  hands  full 
beating  this  fellow,  and  the  quick  way  he  dis- 
posed of  him  made  a  great  impression. 

The  Scotchman  was  a  very  powerful  man,  but 
was  too  slow  ever  to  have  made  a  fighter. 

The  next  day  John  and  I  were  going  down 
to  the  springs  to  take  a  bath,  when  I  was  ap- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    67 

proached  by  two  fellows  who  said  they  were 
hard  up,  and  asked  me  to  help  them  out.  One 
of  them  was  a  stranger,  but  the  other  I  knew 
slightly.  I  gave  each  of  them  a  dollar  and 
passed  on.  When  I  returned  to  the  hotel  and 
went  into  Sullivan's  room  he  asked  me  who  the 
fellows  that  I  had  been  talking  to  were.  I"  told 
him  I  had  known  one  of  them  in  New  Orleans 
and  that  the  other  one  was  a  stranger  to  me. 

" You  have  more  'bum'  friends  than  any  man 
I  know  of, ' '  said  Sullivan. 

"John,"  I  replied,  "you  should  not  talk  like 
that.  You  are  only  a  young  man  yet. ' '  He  was 
twenty-six  then.  "One  of  those  poor  fellows 
was  an  alderman  in  New  Orleans  'way  back  in 
the  50 's.  Now  he  is  a  dissipated,  broken-down 
old  man.  You  will  meet  fellows  who  are  wear- 
ing diamonds  and  spending  money  now  who,  in 
ten  or  twelve  years,  will  be  stopping  you  in  the 
street  and  asking  for  a  loan." 

There  were  a  couple  of  other  men  in  the  room 
when  this  conversation  took  place,  and  theyt 
backed  me  up  in  what  I  said. 


68    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

A  few  minutes  later  we  went  to  the  station, 
and  as  we  got  to  our  seats  in  the  car  a  crowd 
of  poor  fellows  came  in  and  began  telling  their 
tales  of  woe  to  John.  He  was  handing  them 
each  a  five  or  ten  dollar  bill.  I  spied  my  friend 
the  alderman  on  the  back  platform,  and  went 
out  and  told  him  what  was  going  on,  advising 
him  to  go  in  and  strike  John. 

Sullivan  gave  him  a  ten-dollar  bill,  and  as 
more  were  coming,  probably  the  same  crowd  on 
a  second  trip,  he  called  out,  "Lock  that  door!" 
."Which  was  done.  I  think,  in  all,  he  gave  away 
a  couple  of  hundred  dollars.  As  the  train  pulled 
out  I  turned  to  him  and  said,  "John,  you  cer- 
tainly have  lots  of  'bum'  friends."  He  said, 
"Well,  I  guess  you're  right,  Mike."  "I  know 
I  am  right,  John,"  I  replied.  "I  tipped  my 
'bum'  friends  off,  and  they  got  ten  apiece  from 
you."  He  laughed  and  said  the  joke  was  on 
him. 

Our  next  stop  of  any  importance  was  St. 
Louis.  On  arriving  there  we  found  that  Buf- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    69 

falo  Bill  was  in  town  with  his  Wild  West  show. 
He  invited  us  to  see  the  performance,  and  that 
afternoon  we  went  out  to  the  fair  grounds  and 
were  ushered  into  seats  in  the  judges'  stand. 
'We  found  that  General  Sherman,  his  daughter 
and  other  prominent  people  had  already  ar- 
rived. 

Bill  made  his  customary  speech  before  the 
caravan  started,  and  then  invited  John  L.  and 
the  rest  of  us  to  occupy  the  old  Deadwood 
coach.  We  started  round  the  track  lickity-split, 
and  about  half-way  round  the  Indians,  led  by 
their  chief,  Rocky  Bear,  attacked  us.  Their 
faces  were  daubed  with  red,  green  and  white 
paint,  and  distorted  with  fierce  grimaces.  They 
emitted  shrieks  and  yells  at  every  jump.  Their 
repeating  rifles  were  cracking  away  in  our 
faces.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  knew  I  was 
perfectly  safe,  their  fierce  yells  and  bloodthirsty 
actions  were  so  realistic  that  I  could  feel  little 
chills  chasing  themselves  up  and  down  my  back. 

One  of  the  other  men  in  the  coach  was  named 


70    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Frank  Tucker,  a  real  "bad  man,"  with  eight 
notches  on  his  gun. 

As  the  Indians  overtook  us,  one  big  buck  rode 
up  close  and  shot  right  into  the  coach.  Tucker 
turned  to  me  and  said,  very  quietly,  "I'm  going 
to  kill  that  Indian  some  day." 

I  thought  he  was  joking,  and  laughed. 

Tucker  showed  me  his  left  hand,  which  was 
bandaged  heavily.  He  told  me  the  Indian  had 
shot  a  gun-wad  into  his  hand  a  couple  of  days 
before,  and  added,  "You  bet  that  Indian  will 
never  see  the  plains  again,  partner." 

Buffalo  Bill  heard  of  this  threat  a  short  time 
afterward  and  sent  Tucker  back  to  his  home  in 
North  Platte,  for  he  knew  he  would  be  sure  to 
kill  the  Indian  sooner  or  later. 

Buffalo  Bill  gave  us  a  barbecue,  and  we  had 
lots  of  meat,  and  onions,  and  coffee  galore.  Gen- 
eral Sherman  was  there,  and  ate  the  meat  out 
of  his  fingers,  like  everybody  else,  and  he  was 
as  much  of  a  boy  as  any  of  us.  Of  course  I 
knew  the  General,  as  I  had  marched  from  At- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    71 

lanta  to  the  sea  with  him.  He  told  me  there  he 
was  always  glad  to  meet  one  of  his  boys. 

Buffalo  Bill  drove  us  into  town  in  a  four-in- 
hand,  Sullivan  and  himself  sitting  on  the  front 
seat.  They  received  an  ovation  all  along  the 
route.  Everybody  was  cracking  jokes,  and  we 
had  a  very  merry  time.  We  went  to  the  hotel 
and  had  dinner,  and  all  ate  heartily.  Sullivan 
meant  to  meet  a  man  there  by  the  name  of  Zin- 
dell.  However,  that  did  not  prevent  his  dining 
well. 

We  then  went  to  the  People's  Theater  to  pre- 
pare for  the  show.  At  8 : 15  Tom  Allen,  the  ex- 
champion  of  America,  appeared  on  the  stage 
with  a  handsome  young  fellow,  light-haired, 
blue-eyed,  broad-shouldered,  who  weighed  about 
180  pounds.  " Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Al- 
len in  his  coarse,  husky  voice,  "I  brought  Zin- 
dell  here  to  meet  John  L.  Sullivan.  Sullivan 
has  been  going  all  around  this  country  making 
bluffs,  and  I  brought  Mr.  Zindell  here  to  meet 
him."  Of  course  Allen  made  quite  a  hit,  and 


72    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

was  cheered  by  the  audience.  Now,  let  it  be 
understood  right  here  that  Tom  Allen  knew  the 
Chief  of  Police,  Larry  Horrigan,  whom  I  had 
known  in  the  late  60 's  when  he  was  a  sergeant, 
was  there,  and  had  already  told  Sullivan  he 
would  not  allow  him  to  knock  any  man  out. 
Knowing  Sullivan  could  not  put  his  man  out, 
Allen  was  making  a  bluff.  It  made  me  mad  to 
see  Zindell  swaggering  around  when  he  knew 
Sullivan  wouldn't  be  allowed  to  put  him  out.  I 
said  to  Chief  Horrigan,  "Let  John  L.  knock 
that  fellow  out.  It  will  take  some  of  the  conceit 
out  of  him."  "No,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  do  it, 
Mike.  I  would  like  to  see  John  L.  put  him  out 
myself;  but,  as  Chief  of  Police,  I  cannot  allow 
it." 

I  went  downstairs  to  the  dressing-room  and 
repeated  to  John  L.  the  speech  Allen  had  made, 
and  told  him  how  he  referred  to  him  as  a 
bluffer. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "they  won't  believe  what  that 
old  stoker  says.  Everybody  knows  I  am  on  the 
level." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    73 

"Well,"  said  I,  "you  will  have  to  go  up  and 
refute  what  Allen  has  said,  as  his  words  have 
made  a  great  impression  on  the  audience." 

He  shook  his  head  and  said  in  disgust,  "I 
will  not  notice  it." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  you  will  leave  a  bad  im- 
pression behind  you  in  this  city.  Can't  you 
hear  the  people  calling,  'Sullivan!  Sullivan!'? 
You  owe  them  an  explanation." 

I  persuaded  him,  and  he  went  up  on  the  stage 
and  addressed  the  audience  as  follows : 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  a  standing  of- 
fer of  one  thousand  dollars,  put  up  for  any  man 
who  can  stay  four  rounds  with  me.  I  have  trav- 
eled from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  and  back, 
and  no  man  has  stayed  even  one  round  as  yet. 
There  have  been  scores  who  have  tried  it.  I 
would  be  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  treat  you  to 
a  knock-out  to-night,  but  the  Chief  of  Police  has 
forbidden  it.  Now,  that  is  the  situation.  He  is 
here  now  on  the  stage,  so  I  will  leave  it  to  this 
audience  who  is  the  bigger  bluffer— the  man 


74    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

who  has  just  made  the  speech  to  you,  or  myself. 
He  knows  the  Chief  will  not  allow  me  to  knock 
his  man  out." 

John  L.  received  a  tremendous  cheer,  and  Al- 
len was  hissed. 

We  went  on  and  gave  the  regular  show  with 
our  combination  as  usual.  After  the  show  we 
went  different  ways — I  with  my  friends  and 
Sullivan  with  his — and  we  did  not  meet  until 
very  late  that  night  at  the  hotel.  I  arrived 
there  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  Frank  Moran 
and  myself  and  our  old  friend  Tucker  went  up 
to  the  bar  to  have  a  drink,  when  in  came  Zin- 
dell  and  a  friend,  and  we  invited  them  to  join 
us.  Zindell  was  the  first  to  refer  to  the  incident 
of  the  evening.  He  said  that  he  was  not  afraid 
to  meet  Sullivan. 

"That  may  be  all  true,  young  man,"  I  said. 
"Nobody  said  you  were  afraid;  but  let  me  tell 
you  frankly  you  would  not  last  as  long  as  it 
takes  me  to  tell  it  in  front  of  him." 

"How  do  you  know? ' '  he  asked. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    75 

"I  could  tell  by  looking  at  you." 

"How  so?" 

"Because  you  are  not  a  fighting  manl" 

"You  never  seen  me  fight,"  he  replied. 

The  argument  was  getting  pretty  hot  now. 

"I  would  not  have  to  see  you  fight  to  know 
that  you  aren't  a  fighter.  You  have  not  a  sin- 
gle indication  in  your  face  to  show  that  you  are 
one." 

He  began  to  get  nervous  and  his  voice  trem- 
bled. 

"That's  a  pretty  bold  thing  to  say,"  he  cried. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  bold  enough  to  say  it,"  I  an- 
swered. 

I  thought  I  was  in  for  a  scrap,  »and  I  was  in- 
clined to  have  one. 

He  cooled  down,  and  I  said  to  him,  "I  told 
you  that  you  were  no  fighter. ' ' 

His  excuse  was,  he  did  not  fight  in  barrooms. 

I  said,  "Neither  do  I,  but  I  am  not  particular 
when  the  occasion  requires  it." 

He  took  water,  and  that  ended  the  argument. 


76    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

We  had  some  more  drinks,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  I  saw  John  L.  coming  through  the  cor- 
ridor. I  walked  toward  him  and  said,  "John" 
(understand,  he  had  never  seen  Zindell),  "that 
fellow  that  Allen  had  to  meet  you  is  here  at  the 
bar.  Don't  say  anything  to  him,  as  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  is  his  fault.  It  is  best  to  let  the  thing 
pass  off  now." 

When  he  came  up  to  the  bar  I  introduced  him 
to  Zindell,  and  he  said,  "Glad  to  meet  you, 
young  fellow." 

Zindell  could  not  give  up  the  subject,  and 
said,  "Mr.  Sullivan,  it  was  not  my  fault  I  did 
not  meet  you  to-night." 

Sullivan  replied,  in  a  rough,  surly  voice,  "It 
was  not  my  fault  I  did  not  knock  you  out."  And 
he  meant  it,  too. 
.     "Well."  he  said,  "I  guess  you  can  lick  me." 

Sullivan  said,  "No  guess  about  it.  You 
would  go  the  way  others  went,  as  sure  as  you 
live.  That's  no  bluff,  either,  understand?  And 
now  don't  say  any  more  about  it." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KN()W    77 

Zindell  shook  like  a  man  with  the  fever,  and 
quit  then  and  there  when  he  found  he  was  in 
for  a  licking  if  he  said  more.  The  man  who  was 
with  Zindell  had  known  my  brother  Jerry  in  the 
day  of  his  prime  and  said  to  me  in  a  whisper, 
''If  Sullivan  hits  this  fellow  and  knocks  him 
out  I  will  kill  him."  He  was  assuming  on  the 
acquaintance  of  my  brother  that  I  would  be  his 
friend  instead  of  Sullivan's. 

I  turned  on  him  and  said :  ' '  If  you  put  your 
hand  near  your  hip  pocket  I  will  knock  the  top 
of  your  head  off." 

This  was  all  said  in  a  low  voice,  so  as  not  to 
attract  Sullivan's  attention.  If  he  had  heard 
it  there  would  have  been  trouble  sure.  I  felt 
rather  safe  with  nothing  but  my  hands,  because 
I  knew  my  friend  Tucker  had  his  masked  bat- 
tery planted  all  the  time. 

After  a  couple  more  drinks  John  L.  started 
for  the  south  door  of  the  hotel.  It  was  then 
about  two  o  'clock  in  the  morning.  Moran  called 
my  attention  to  it  and  said,  "  There  goes  John. 
Go  after  him." 


78    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I  did,  and  Tucker  followed  me.  I  knew  John 
was  up  to  some  mischief  and  said  to  Tucker,  "I 
think  he  is  going  to  Allen's  to  get  even  for  those 
remarks  he  made  last  evening.  We  won't  at- 
tract his  attention  until  we  see  him  turning 
down  the  street  to  Allen's." 

He  walked  up  Fifth  Street  and  passed  Mar- 
ket Street.  We  let  him  go  for  a  little  way,  and 
then  I  hailed  him,  for  I  knew  he  was  making  a 
mistake.  He  turned  around  and  said,  "What 
are  you  following  me  for?" 

I  walked  up  to  him  and  said,  "I  know  that 
you  are  going  to  Allen's  place  to  lick  him,  and 
I  am  following  you  to  keep  you  out  of  trouble." 

He  said,  * '  I  will  make  him  apologize  or  knock 
his  head  off  before  I  go  to  bed  this  morning." 

I  said,  "John,  Allen  is  too  old  a  man  for  you 
to  beat.  He  is  an  old  has-been,  and  the  only 
thing  he  can  do  now  is  to  talk.  He  is  beneath 
your  notice." 

He  paid  no  attention,  other  than  to  ask: 
"Where  is  his  place!"  He  was  still  determined 
to  go  there. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    79 

"He  lives  on  Market  Street,"  I  replied;  "but, 
look  here,  John,  you  don't  want  to  go  there  and 
start  a  racket.  He  has  got  a  lot  of  hangers-on 
and  cut-throats  there.  We  will  all  get  into  se- 
rious trouble,  and  you  will  be  sorry  for  it  after- 
ward." 

A  stitch  in  time  saves  nine,  and  back  to  the 
hotel  we  went.  John  still  wanted  to  go  on;  so 
did  Tucker,  who  said,  "I  have  a  pair  of  guns 
here,  and  I  won't  leave  a  live  man  in  the  place." 

"That's  all  right,  Tucker,"  I  said,  "but  it 
don't  pay."  I  finally  persuaded  them  to  drop 
the  matter;  but  I  did  not  feel  easy  until  I  saw 
John  in  bed,  fearing  he  might  get  up  and  sneak 
out  again,  but  Tucker  stayed  with  him  and 
promised  me  that  he  would  not  let  him  out. 
Then  I  went  to  my  room  and  went  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  we  left  St.  Louis. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BURKE,  OF   SAGINAW,  A  GOOD   MAN 

ONE  feature  of  our  show  was  a  three-round 
exhibition  between  Sullivan  and  myself.  These 
affairs  are  always  rehearsed  beforehand,  and 
are  known  as  " brother  acts." 

We  were  just  starting  the  second  round  at 
Saginaw,  Michigan,  when  we  were  startled  by 
hearing  a  voice  from  a  box  ten  or  twelve  feet 

above  the  stage  call  out,  "It's  a  d d  shame 

to  see  that  big  fellow  slugging  a  little  man." 
The  "little  man"  meant  me,  as  I  then  weighed 
only  about  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  pounds. 

Sullivan  stopped  sparring  and,  looking  up 
over  his  shoulder,  growled  out  to  the  occupant 
of  the  box,  "You  come  down." 

As  Sullivan  turned  I  hit  him  a  stiff  punch 

80 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    81 

on  the  head.  He  paid  no  attention  to  it.  This 
brought  a  great  laugh  from  the  audience. 

Crash  came  a  pair  of  heavy,  raw-hide  boots 
on  to  the  stage.  The  man  who  wore  them  had 
leaped  from  his  box  and  stood  confronting 
John  L. 

I  had  slipped  off  my  gloves  when  I  saw  what 
had  happened.  The  stranger  tore  off  his  coat 
and  rushed  toward  Sullivan,  his  hands  in  a 
fighting  position.  I  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
pulled  my  gloves  on  his  hands,  saying,  as  I  did 
so,  "You  jumped  down  here  looking  for  some- 
thing. Now  you  '11  get  it. ' ' 

He  and  Sullivan  sparred  for  a  moment,  the 
newcomer's  heavy  boots  beating  a  tattoo  on  the 
stage  floor  as  he  sprang  in  and  out.  Sullivan 
feinted  with  his  left,  and  when  the  stranger's 
hanpl  went  up  to  guard  he  crashed  his  right 
against  the  jaw. 

It  was  a  knock-out. 

After  disposing  of  a  man  Sullivan  always 
picked  him  up  and  started  to  take  care  of  him. 


82    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

This  was  done  in  order  to  dispel  any  unpleasant 
effect  of  the  knock-out  in  the  minds  of  the  spec- 
tators. He  followed  his  usual  custom  in  this 
case. 

After  we  had  bathed  the  stranger's  head  he 
revived  a  bit  and  staggered  to  his  feet  and 
stood  swaying,  again  assuming  an  attitude  of 
defense.  Sullivan  put  him  back  in  the  chair. 
He  put  his  hand  to  the  back  of  his  neck  and 
spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"Who  hit  me  here?"  he  demanded. 

"I  did,  old  man,"  said  Sullivan. 

"Who  are  you?" 

John  L.  grinned  and  replied,  "  I  'm  Sullivan. ' ' 

The  other  smiled  faintly.  "Oh,  I  remember 
now, ' '  he  said,  and  shortly  after  left  the  theater. 

I  then  resumed  the  gloves  and  John  L.  and 
I  finished  our  set-to. 

That  night  while  we  were  standing  at  the 
hotel  bar,  the  stranger,  whose  name  I  learned 
was  Burke,  came  in.  He  walked  straight  over 
to  John  L.  "Sullivan,"  he  said,  "give  me  your 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    83 

hand.  You  are  a  good  man.  I've  licked  every 
man  in  these  parts.  You  are  the  first  that  ever 
knocked  me  down." 

The  champion's  hand  met  his  half-way. 
"Have  a  drink,"  growled  Sullivan. 

If  this  rough  lumberman  had  had  the  benefit 
of  Sullivan's  training,  there  is  no  doubt  in  my 
mind  he  would  have  made  his  mark  in  the  ring. 

There  are  many  young  fellows  such  as  he 
throughout  the  country  who  would,  if  properly 
taught,  make  as  good  fighters  as  any  that  have 
appeared  before  the  public. 

From  Saginaw  we  went  to  Detroit,  where  we 
showed  for  two  nights.  After  arriving  at  the 
hotel,  among  the  friends  and  admirers  who 
called  to  see  John  L.  was  Colonel  McLaughlin, 
who  was  once  collar-and-elbow  wrestling  cham- 
pion of  the  world.  He  sent  up  his  card,  and 
John  L.  told  them  to  show  him  up.  I  had  never 
seen  this  man,  and  was  somewhat  curious  to 
have  a  look  at  him.  In  came  a  great  big,  broad- 
shouldered  man  with  light  hair  and  very  blue 


84    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

eyes;  he  wore  a  long,  flowing  mustache.  He 
was  a  splendid  figure  and  a  handsome  man. 
Sullivan  said  that  he  was  glad  to  see 
him,  and  he  told  John  he  also  was  glad  to 
see  him,  but  Sullivan  did  not  introduce  me.  He 
sometimes  forgot  that  it  was  necessary  to  intro- 
duce those  who  were  with  him.  I  did  not  mind 
this,  however,  as  I  knew  it  was  only  an  over- 
sight. 

They  were  talking  about  John's  profitable 
tour  and  of  the  many  men  that  he  had  done 
away  with.  I  did  not  say  a  word,  as  I  was 
studying  Mr.  McLaughlin  and  could  see  that  he 
was  a  very  pompous  sort  of  chap  and  wanted 
to  make  a  big  impression  on  people  as  to  what 
a  big  man  he  was,  both  in  bulk  and  intellect.  I 
did  not  like  his  style  in  the  least. 

All  at  once  he  stuck  out  his  chest,  raised  his 
head  in  the  air  and  said,  "  John,  why  don't  you 
learn  how  to  wrestle!" 

"Oh,"  said  John,  "I  can  wrestle  well  enough 
to  throw  a  sucker."  And  then  he  added  that 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    85 

wrestling  was  barred  under  the  Marquis  of 
Queensbury  rules. 

"Well,"  said  the  Colonel,  "suppose  that  a 
robber  or  a  highwayman  should  tackle  you  some 
night.  If  you  knew  how  to  wrestle  well,  you 
could  break  his  neck  and  throw  him  into  an 
alley." 

I  saw  that  my  impression  of  McLaughlin  was 
correct,  and  that  he  wanted  to  appear  as  a 
bigger  man  than  Sullivan  himself.  This  made 
me  mad  and  I  said,  "You  seem  to  forget,  Mr. 
McLaughlin,  that  John  might  be  doing  some- 
thing about  that  time  himself." 

He  looked  at  me,  with  his  head  still  raised, 
as  much  as  to  say:  "You  impudent  fellow.  Who 
are  you  that  enters  this  conversation?"  and 
then  said,  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  "Well,  what 
would  he  do?" — emphasizing  the  well. 

I  answered  that  Sullivan  would  knock  the 
man  out,  and  there  was  not  a  wrestler  living 
that  he  could  not  knock  out.  And  that  that  was 
what  he  would  and  could  do  if  occasion  de- 
manded. 


86    THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

This  rather  knocked  the  conceit  out  of  Mc- 
Laughlin,  and  he  left  much  offended.  I  told 
Sullivan  he  ought  not  to  have  let  him  go  with- 
out a  call-down,  but  John  was  always  good- 
natured,  and  passed  the  matter  off  lightly. 

Shortly  after  taking  the  train  for  Toledo, 
Ohio,  and  as  we  were  all  comfortably  seated,  a 
big,  broad-shouldered  mulatto  took  a  seat  beside 
me.  I  took  no  particular  notice  of  him,  except 
that  his  left  arm  was  in  a  sling. 

Frank  Moran  sat  opposite  me,  as  the  seats 
were  opened  up  facing  each  other.  I  saw 
Moran  eying  my  neighbor  very  keenly,  and 
once  in  a  while  making  eyes  at  me,  but  I  could 
not  understand  what  he  meant  by  it  until  finally 
he  leaned  over  and  whispered  to  me,  "Mike, 
that  is  Thompson."  Frank  then  got  into  con- 
versation with  him,  which  astonished  me  some- 
what, as  he  did  not  like  negroes  as  a  rule.  Sud- 
denly Frank  said, ' '  Oh,  you  are  Mervin  Thomp- 
son, are  you?" 

As    soon  as  I  heard  the  name  I  whispered, 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    87 

"  Frank,  keep  it  quiet,  for  if  the  Big  Fellow 
finds  out  Thompson  is  here  there  will  be  a  ter- 
rible row."  Frank  said  to  Thompson,  "You 
have  been  challenging  John  L.  during  his  ab- 
sence, and  he  is  dead  sore  on  you  and  Duncan 
Ross  [the  broadswordsman] ,  and  if  he  sees  you 
now  you  will  get  what  is  coming  to  you. ' ' 

I  again  cautioned  Frank  to  speak  in  a  lower 
tone.  John  L.  sat  in  the  seat  at  Frank's  back, 
just  ahead  of  us,  and  I  was  afraid  that  he  would 
hear  and  learn  Thompson  was  there.  Frank  was 
rather  inclined  to  have  John  L.  hear,  however. 
Thompson  made  all  manner  of  excuses,  but 
Frank  would  not  let  up.  Finally  Sullivan  heard 
the  name  of  Thompson  mentioned  by  Moran, 
and  he  turned  around  in  his  seat  and  looked 
sharply  at  Thompson  for  a  minute  or  two,  then 
called  out,  "Say,  are  you  Mervin  Thompson?" 
"Yes,  Mr.  Sullivan,"  he  replied. 

John  L.  sat  up,  leaning  over  the  seat,  and 
said,  '  *  Thompson,  if  you  did  not  have  your  arm 
in  a  sling  I  would  make  you  lay  down  like  a 
yellow  dog." 


88    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW      - 

By  this  time  the  aisle  of  the  car  was  full 
of  people,  expecting  to  see  a  fight.  Poor  Thomp- 
son was  scared  almost  to  death. 

I  said:  "John,  he  has  acknowledged  that  you 
can  lick  him  and  that  Duncan  Eoss  is  the  man 
responsible.  The  poor  fellow  has  apologized  in 
every  way.  If  you  say  much  more  to  him  the 
people  will  think  that  you  are  imposing  on  him 
because  he  has  only  one  arm. ' ' 

John  L.  then  turned  around  and  let  Thomp- 
son alone.  If  a  fight  had  started  the  passengers 
would  have  stampeded,  and  there  might  have 
been  a  dreadful  loss  of  life  caused  by  the  jam 
on  the  two  platforms  that  would  have  caused 
many  to  topple  off  the  train,  which  was  going 
at  least  fifty  miles  an  hour. 

I  felt  rather  sore  at  Moran  for  not  keeping 
quiet.  Frank  was  a  city  fellow  and  was  fond 
of  kidding,  and  liked  to  see  a  scrap.  Nothing 
would  do  John  L.  but  that  Thompson  be  his 
guest,  and  stop  over  one  night  with  him. 

Al.  Smith,  John  L.'s  manager  at  that  time, 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    89 

boarded  the  train  at  Buffalo.  It  often  happened 
that  we  all  acted  like  bad  boys  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  schoolmaster's  absence,  and  it 
was  curious  to  see  how  humble  John  L.  would 
be  when  Al.  would  read  him  a  lecture.  He  acted 
more  like  a  boy  who  was  going  to  get  a  beating 
for  playing  hookey  than  anything  else.  He  al- 
ways had  the  same  excuse:  "I  can't  help  it,  Al. 
Everybody  is  running  after  me  with  'John, 
have  a  drink'  here  and  'John,  have  a  drink J 
there.  I  don't  like  to  offend  any  one  by  refus- 
ing. So  how  can  I  help  it?" 

Al.  had  a  habit  of  repeating  the  word  "see." 
"See,  see,"  he  would  say,  "this  won't  do,  this 
won't  do — see,  see — you're  ruining  your  health, 
my  boy — see,  see — you  are  ruining  your  health. 
Now  don't  you  see  I'm  right!" 

"Yes,"  John  L.  would  say,  and  when  Al.  was 
through  with  John  his  face  would  brighten  up 
and  one  would  think  he  would  never  do  wrong 
again.  All  this  time  I  would  be  trembling  in  my 
shoes,  knowing  that  my  turn  would  come  next. 


90    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I'd  try  the  same  excuse,  and  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  truth  in  it,  but  it  wouldn't  go  with  Al. 
He'd  say  to  me,  "Mike,  this  won't  do — see?" 
He'd  let  me  off  with  a  lecture,  but  the  promise 
made  lasted  only  while  Al,  was  in  close  prox- 
imity, and  I  might  say  the  same  for  John  L. 

Now  let  me  introduce  the  reader  to  Al.  Smith. 
Many  of  this  generation  don't  know  of  him; 
many  have  never  even  heard  of  him.  Away 
back  in  the  early  60 's  he  went  into  the  Civil  War 
with  an  Ohio  regiment  and  fought  bravely  to 
the  close.  He  was  about  twenty-four  then.  He 
was  a  big  man — six  feet  two  inches  in  height. 
After  the  war  he  drifted  into  St.  Louis.  At  that 
time  men  did  not  fight  so  much  through  the  pa- 
pers as  they  do  nowadays.  Whenever  a  likely- 
looking  fellow  drifted  into  one  of  those  river 
cities  he  had  to  fight  to  be  recognized.  In  six 
weeks  there  wasn't  a  rough-and-tumble  scrap- 
per in  St.  Louis  that  Al.  hadn't  licked.  Two  of 
them  I  know — Pat  Conley  and  Jake  Powell,  both 
six-footers  and  terrible  men.  They  fought  like 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    91 

savage  bulldogs.  Al.  nearly  killed  Conley,  who 
did  not  recover  for  some  weeks.  Pat  was  a  ter- 
rible fighter,  but  as  kind-hearted  as  a  child. 
There  were  many  more,  but  too  numerous  to 
mention.  Now,  readers,  this  is  Al.  Smith.  Do 
you  wonder  why  we  were  all  so  meek?  I  ought 
to  say  here  that  it  was  not  on  account  of  Al.'s 
physical  prowess  that  Sullivan  and  I  obeyed 
him,  but  because  we  respected  his  judgment  and 
knew  what  he  said  was  best  for  us. 

Dear  old  Al.  is  still  living,  a  hale  old  man, 
at  the  Gilsey  House,  where  he  has  stayed  for 
many  years.  I  drop  in  to  see  him  occasionally, 
and  we  have  a  chat  and  laugh  about  old  times.  I 
often  say,  "By  George!  AL,  we  were  more 
scared  of  you  than  we  would  be  of  a  regiment 
of  ordinary  men — John  L.,  too,  as  well  as  the 
rest  of  us." 

The  morning  we  arrived  in  New  York  Al. 
slipped  two  one-hundred-dollar  bills  in  my 
hand,  saying,  ' '  I  give  you  this,  son,  for  being  a 
good  boy  these  last  two  weeks."  The  gift  was 


92    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

a  godsend,  as  I  did  not  have  five  dollars  in  my 
pockets.  I  had  received  a  good  salary ;  but,  as  I 
have  said  before,  I  met  so  many  I  knew  who 
were  down  and  out,  and  between  giving  up  to 
them  and  spending  money  for  drink  I  could  not 
keep  a  dollar.  John  L.,  of  course,  could  give 
away  more  lavishly  than  I.  After  this  gift  Al. 
and  I  sat  on  the  same  seat  and  began  to  talk 
about  John  L.  I  said,  ''Al.,  you  know  that 
Charley  Mitchell  is  in  New  York  now,  waiting 
for  Sullivan.  Take  my  advice  and  don't  make 
a  match  for  several  weeks.  I  could  whip  John 
L.  myself  this  morning.  He  is  in  horrible  con- 
dition. He  is  more  fit  for  a  sanitarium  than  a 
prize-ring.  Don't  match  him.  Don't,  for  God's 
sake,  match  him.  Mitchell  knows  that  he  is  in 
this  condition,  as  there  are  people  all  over  this 
country  who  keep  him  posted.  Now,  I  know 
what  I  am  talking  about."  Al.  listened  atten- 
tively to  me  and  meant  to  take  my  advice,  but 
John  L.  could  not  keep  his  temper  when  he  met 
Mitchell  an  hour  later  in  the  Ashland  House. 
The  thing  happened  just  to  suit  Mitchell. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    93 

As  they  met,  Mitchell,  extending  his  hand, 
walked  toward  John  L.,  saying,  "Hello,  John! 
How  do  you  do  I  I'm  glad  to  see  you."  John 
L.  replied,  "I'll  shake  hands  with  you  after  I 
have  licked  you  for  what  you  said  during  my 
absence. ' ' 

"Oh,  you  will,  will  you?"  said  Charley. 

One  word  brought  on  another,  and  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  the  interference  of  the  people  present 
there  would  have  been  a  fight  then  and  there. 

The  match  was  made,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  they  should  meet  in  Madison  Square  Gar- 
den three  weeks  later. 

Now  I  will  show  how  Billy  Madden  and 
Mitchell  hoodwinked  so  clever  a  man  as  Al. 
Smith.  Al.  did  not  understand  the  mean,  low 
trick  they  played  on  him  until  it  was  all  over. 
Both  men  went  into  training,  and  about  four 
days  before  the  bout  Madden  telegraphed  to  Al. 
that  Mitchell  had  malaria  and  could  not  fight, 
and  they  called  the  fight  off.  Al.  immediately 
telegraphed  to  Sullivan  at  Boston  that  the  fight 
was  off. 


94    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

John  L.  stopped  training  and  began  celebrat- 
ing at  his  own  place  at  Boston  with  a  crowd  of 
friends.  This  fact  was  published  all  over  the 
country  in  the  newspapers.  At  once  Madden 
made  arrangements  to  have  the  fight  go  on  as 
per  schedule,  knowing  that  John  could  not 
straighten  up  in  time  to  do  his  best.  Al.  then 
telegraphed  to  John  L.  to  come  on  to  New  York, 
saying  that  all  that  he  needed  was  a  shave  and  a 
shampoo  to  beat  Mitchell ;  but  I  knew  better  and 
told  Al.  that  it  was  a  trick  of  Madden 's  and 
Mitchell's  to  throw  him  off  his  guard  and  get 
John  when  he  was  out  of  condition. 

However,  Al.  Smith  allowed  Sullivan  to  come 
to  New  York.  When  he  arrived  I  went  to  the 
hotel  to  have  a  look  at  him,  as  I  was  a  bit  nerv- 
ous, knowing  that  Mitchell,  although  only  a 
middleweight,  was  a  good  man  and  a  hard 
puncher,  and  that  it  would  take  an  exceptionally 
good  big  man  to  beat  him. 

I  have  said  at  times  uncomplimentary  things 
about  Charley  Mitchell,  but  I  have  never  at  any 
time  said  lie  was  not  a  good  fighter. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    95 

After  looking  John  over,  and  seeing  his  ter- 
rible condition,  I  said  to  him,  "You  ought  to 
have  known  Madden  was  tricking  you  when  he 
sent  Al.  that  message  saying  Mitchell  was  sick, 
and  that  it  was  only  intended  to  throw  you  off 
your  guard." 

John  braced  up  a  bit  and  said:  "I  guess 
you're  right,  Mike,  but  I  can  put  him  away  for 
good  in  one  punch." 

"I  hope  so,  John,"  I  said,  "but  don't  forget 
he 's  a  clever  fellow,  and  it  will  be  hard  for  you 
to  hit  that  punch  in  the  condition  you  are  in 
now."  Before  I  left  I  said:  "John,  for  God's 
sake,  go  in  with  a  clear  head,  anyway.  Don't 
take  another  drink  before  the  fight."  When  I 
left  him  he  seemed  to  feel  better,  but  I  was 
very  skeptical  of  the  result. 

The  fight  was  scheduled  for  ten  o'clock  that 
night.  That  afternoon  Sullivan  had  a  severe 
vomiting  spell  and  immediately  after  developed 
a  fever.  Notwithstanding  this  fact,  he  went  to 
the  Garden.  I  saw  him  in  his  dressing-room. 


96    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

He  was  plainly  disheartened.  He  was  leaning 
forward,  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  seemed  in 
great  distress.  The  doctor  who  was  attending 
him  told  me  Sullivan  had  a  fever  and  was  in 
bad  shape. 

I  left  the  dressing-room  feeling  very  bad. 
I  didn't  want  to  see  Sullivan  beaten,  but  I  knew 
if  he  went  into  the  ring  with  Mitchell  that  night 
it  surely  would  happen.  I  couldn't  figure  out 
any  way  to  prevent  it.  Handsome  Dan  Mur- 
phy, of  Boston,  one  of  John  L.'s  warmest 
friends,  came  rushing  up  to  me  in  great  excite- 
ment, crying,  "Mike,  for  God's  sake,  go  into 
the  dressing-room  and  keep  the  Big  Fellow 
from  going  on.  He  must  not  try  to  fight  to- 
night." 

I  went  back  into  John's  dressing-room.  Al. 
Smith  was  there,  telling  him  to  take  off  his 
clothes  and  put  on  his  fighting  togs,  saying  that 
Mitchell  was  ready. 

I  said:  "My  Lord!  Al.,  you  don't  want  to  see 
John  licked,  do  you?" 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    97 

"No,  of  course  not,"  he  replied.  "Look  at 
the  house — see  the  thousands  of  people." 

' '  Well,  he  will  not  fight, ' '  I  declared.  "He  is 
not  fit.  A  little  boy  could  push  him  over  this 
minute.  //  he  gets  into  that  ring  to-night 
Charley  Mitchell  will  beat  him  as  sure  as  he's 
a  foot  high." 

John  was  moaning  softly  at  that  time.  Al. 
left  and  went  into  the  adjoining  dressing-room 
where  Mitchell  and  Madden  were.  He  told  them 
Sullivan  was  sick  and  could  not  fight. 

Mitchell  hesitated  a  moment ;  then  said : ' l  Oh, 
well,  we  can  go  and  have  a  little  friendly  'spar,' 
y^know." 

;  I  said,  "Not  on  your  life,  Mitchell.  John  L. 
will  not  be  allowed  to  box  with  you  to-night  in 
the  condition  he  is  in." 

"Ah!  y 'know,  I'm  sick,  too." 

"Yes,  you  are,"  I  said.    "You  look  it." 

Mitchell  was  never  in  better  condition  in  his 
life.  His  eyes  were  clear,  an  invariable  sign  of 
good  condition ;  his  flesh  was  firm  and  he  looked 
better  in  every  way  than  I  had  ever  seen  him. 


98    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

After  a  few  moments'  more  conversation  Al. 
said  to  Madden  and  Mitchell,  ''Let's  give  Burke 
and  McCaffrey  five  hundred  dollars  to  box  for 
the  audience."  Mitchell  did  not  understand 
and  said,  emphatically,  "I  cawn't  box  Burke  or 
McCaffrey  here  to-night. "  "I  did  not  say 
that, ' '  said  Al.  "I  said  McCaffrey  and  Burke. ' ' 
Mitchell  had  thought  he  meant  for  him  to  box 
McCaffrey  or  Burke.  Then  Al.  continued: 
"John  is  sick  and  can't  box,  so  we  must  have 
somebody  to  go  on."  Mitchell  said  again, 
"John  L.  and  I  can  have  a  nice,  friendly  'spar/ 
y'know." 

I  repeated  my  declaration,  and  Al.  stood  by 
me. 

(We  then  went  back  to  John's  dressing-room, 
and  Smith  asked  him  to  go  on  the  stage  and 
make  an  excuse  to  the  audience.  Poor  Sullivan 
was  half-stupefied  and  said,  thickly:  "Yes,  I 
will,  for  you,  Al. ' '  That  was  against  my  judg- 
ment. I  told  Sullivan  to  go  back  to  the  hotel. 
I  knew  he  was  making  a  mistake. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW    99 

Of  course,  nobody  can  blame  Al.  Smith  for 
squaring  himself  with  the  crowd,  but  I  must  tell 
the  truth  and  say  that  he  was  more  responsible 
for  that  fizzle  than  John  L.,  as  he  should  not 
have  allowed  Madden  and  Mitchell  to  fool  him. 
Al.  is  an  open-and-above-board  man,  and  natu- 
rally expected  square  dealing  from  Madden  and 
Mitchell,  but,  like  most  men  of  his  caliber,  he 
could  be  deceived  easily.  He  was  never  suspi- 
cious of  any  one. 

John  L.  got  on  the  stage  to  make  his  apology. 
He  was  a  pitiful  spectacle,  hanging  on  to  the 
ropes  with  his  head  down.  He  certainly  looked 
ill.  He  raised  his  hand  and  said,  "Gentlemen, 
I'm  dead  sick.  I  can't  fight  to-night." 

No  one  but  myself  can  possibly  realize  what 
an  effort  it  cost  John  L.  Sullivan  to  say  the 
words  "/  can't  fight  to-night." 

As  John  left  the  ring  he  was  hooted  and 
jeered  at  by  the  same  people  who  had  cheered 
his  very  appearance  a  few  months  before. 

This  affair  nearly  broke  John's  heart;  for, 


100  THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

like  all  idols  of  the  public,  he  was  very  jealous 
of  his  popularity. 

The  next  morning  I  looked  at  the  papers,  and 
saw  all  of  them  had  given  him  an  awful  roast- 
ing, except  the  Sun.  Amos  J.  Cummings,  man- 
aging editor  of  the  Sun,  wrote  an  editorial  in  de- 
fense of  Sullivan.  In  order  to  be  certain  that 
Sullivan  would  see  it,  I  went  to  his  hotel  to  show 
it  to  him.  Upon  going  to  his  room  I  found  him 
in  a  very  bad  state  of  mind — rolling  and  tum- 
bling in  his  bed,  bemoaning  his  fate.  I  said, 
"Here,  John,  listen  to  this,"  and  read  the  ar- 
ticle. After  I  finished  reading  the  editorial  he 
seemed  to  be  quieter.  Then  I  began  to  advise 
him  to  get  into  good  condition,  to  make  another 
match,  and  to  give  Mitchell  the  licking  he  de- 
served, which  he  was  easily  capable  of  doing 
when  he  was  fit. 

Just  then  in  walked  Al.  Smith  with  a  big  roll 
of  bills  in  his  hand,  saying  to  Sullivan,  "Here 
is  your  share  of  the  money."  I  cannot  recall 
the  exact  amount  he  had,  but  it  must  have  been 
between  $3,000  and  $4,000. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  101 

John  replied :  *  *  I  don 't  want  it.    I  didn  't  earn 
it.   Give  it  to  some  charitable  institution. ' ' 

Al.  threw  the  roll  on  the  table,  saying  it  was 
not  his  to  give  away,  and  walked  out,  not  even 
inquiring  as  to  John's  condition.  I  thought  that 
rather  queer  of  Al.  It  was  queer,  but,  however, 
a  fact  that,  intelligent  a  man  as  he  was,  Al. 
Smith  failed  to  realize  that  he,  more  than  any 
one  else,  was  responsible  for  the  predicament 
John  L.  had  been  placed  in,  by  reason  of  send- 
ing him  that  telegram  that  the  match  was  off. 
|  John  went  home  and  braced  up,  and  made  a 
match  to  box  McCaffrey  in  Cincinnati.  McCaf- 
frey had  been  looking  for  this  opportunity  for 
a  long  time,  but  when  he  got  it  he-  liked  it  so 
well  that  Sullivan  was  kept  busy  sprinting  after 
him,  trying  to  locate  him.  It  was  like  a  game 
of  tag — you're  it,  but  you  can't  tag  me.  This 
alleged  fight  lasted  for  six  rounds,  and  Sullivan 
would  have  knocked  him  out  if  McCaffrey  had 
stood  up  and  fought  for  one  minute.  Sullivan, 
of  course,  got  the  decision. 


102    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

John  L.  then  went  to  Chicago  to  meet  Jack 
Burke,  the  pretended  Irish  lad,  who  was  really  a 
Jew.  In  the  meantime  half  a  dozen  big  boils  had 
broken  out  on  Sullivan 's  neck.  There  was  some 
talk  of  postponement,  but  John  L.  would  not 
stand  for  this,  remarking  that  if  Burke  touched 
one  of  his  boils  he  would  only  beat  him  quicker. 
They  met  at  the  racetrack — in  the  open.  Burke 
looked  like  a  small  boy  alongside  of  John  L., 
but  he  was  there  to  get  the  money — and  licking, 
too.  In  one  of  the  clinches  he  hugged  John 
around  the  neck  with  his  arm,  with  the  evident 
intention  of  breaking  one  of  the  boils,  but  he 
was  sorry  for  that.  John  shook  him  off  and 
went  at  him  like  a  madman,  hitting  him  a  blow 
and  knocking  him  sprawling,  almost  putting 
him  out.  After  that,  Burke  did  the  sprinting 
act — the  same  as  McCaffrey  had.  He  was  a 
clever  fellow  on  his  legs,  and  his  skilful  sprint- 
ing and  ducking  saved  him.  He  certainly  could 
not  have  lasted  another  round.  Sullivan  got  the 
decision.  He  would  have  put  Burke  out  in  a 
round  had  he  been  in  shape. 


CHAPTER  VII 
SULLIVAN'S  LAST  FIGHT  IN  NEW  YORK 

SULLIVAN  then  returned  to  Boston  and  took 
good  care  of  himself,  and  a  match  was  made  for 
him  to  meet  John  Laughlin  and  Alf.  Green- 
field, ex-champion  of  England,  in  Madison 
Square  Garden,  the  fights  to  occur  a  week  apart. 

He  came  on  to  New  York  to  finish  his  train- 
ing at  the  Monaca  Villa,  147th  Street  and 
St.  Nicholas  Avenue.  He  met  Laughlin  first. 
Laughlin  measured  six  feet  two  in  height,  and 
weighed  210  pounds  in  condition — a  perfect  ath- 
lete in  build,  whom  a  great  many  people  thought 
had  a  good  chance  of  beating  Sullivan  at  this 
time.  He  was  trained  to  the  minute,  but  it  takes 
more  than  a  fine  build  and  condition  to  win  a 
fight — nerve  is  required  in  conjunction  with 

103 


104    THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

skill.  When  John  L.  got  on  the  stage  in  front 
of  him,  Laughlin  lost  the  all-important  qual- 
ity that  goes  to  make  up  a  fighting  man — nerve. 
Laughlin  danced  and  jumped  around  like 
a  grasshopper,  but  avoided  coming  in  close  to 
John.  Whenever  John  would  dash  up  close 
Laughlin  would  clinch  and  hold  him  in  a  vise- 
like  grip.  John  L.  was  simply  holding  his  arms 
down,  trying  to  get  a  punch  in.  The  first  round 
did  not  amount  to  anything.  In  the  sec- 
ond round  there  was  scarcely  a  blow  struck, 
Laughlin  continuing  his  jumping  and  clinching 
tactics.  When  the  third  round  was  called, 
Laughlin  rushed  and  clinched,  and  with  his 
great  strength  and  weight  forced  Sullivan 
against  the  ropes.  On  the  rebound  Sulli- 
van swung  his  right  like  lightning,  hitting 
Laughlin  in  the  neck,  and  down  he  went,  and 
was  counted  out.  This  blow  was  really  the  only 
one  Sullivan  struck  him.  It  was  a  well-timed 
one,  and  in  the  right  place.  That  ended 
Laughlin 's  pugilistic  ambitions. 


JUST 
LANDED 

A  C  ORKER 


I 


••    .^ 


9 


<•     (^      ^ 

A         ' 


FIXING       A         V 
H,r<       /\       ^ 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  105 

The  following  week  Sullivan  met  Greenfield. 
Greenfield  was  an  extremely  clever  fellow, 
well-built,  about  165  pounds  in  weight  and  about 
five  feet  nine  inches  tall.  I  sat  in  the  audience 
that  night  among  a  group  of  Englishmen,  whose 
conversation  ran  something  like  this:  "H'alf 
will  knock  the  blooming  Yankee's  'ead  h'off," 
and  things  of  that  kind.  I  got  angry  at  that, 
after  I  had  listened  to  this  sort  of  thing  a  few 
minutes,  and  turning  to  one  of  them — a  fighter, 
by  the  way,  named  Paddy  Lee,  "The  Birming- 
ham Boy" — told  him  to  shut  up.  This  stopped 
their  talking. 

When  the  men  put  their  hands  up,  Greenfield 
held  his  arms  very  high,  evidently  looking  for 
a  blow  on  the  jaw.  John  L.  walked  up  to  him 
as  though  he  was  not  there,  and  he  really  was 
not  much  in  comparison  with  Sullivan.  Green- 
field immediately  clinched  Sullivan,  but  the  ref- 
eree ordered  him  to  break.  This  first  round  was 
a  series  of  clinches  on  Greenfield 's  part,  and  no 
damage  was  done.  Sullivan  had  not  struck  a 


106    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

blow.  He  put  his  head  forward,  inviting  Green- 
field to  hit  him,  but  the  latter  was  afraid  to  take 
a  chance. 

In  the  second  round,  after  a  few  feints  and  a 
good  deal  of  jumping-jack  work  by  Greenfield, 
he  clinched  with  Sullivan.  John  L.  shook  him- 
self free,  and  hit  him  with  the  right  arm  on  the 
neck,  and  sent  him  spinning  across  the  ring.  He 
went  after  him  to  finish  him.  Greenfield 
clinched  again,  hanging  on  like  grim  death ;  both 
of  John's  arms  were  hanging  down  free,  as  he 
was  trying  to  get  in  a  decisive  blow.  At  this 
time  the  police  authorities  thought  there  was 
danger  of  a  knockout,  and  Inspector  Thome  and 
Captain  Williams  jumped  on  the  stage  and 
placed  their  clubs  between  the  men.  It  was  a 
lucky  thing  for  Greenfield  that  the  police  inter- 
fered. I  turned  to  the  Englishmen  and  said. 
"Now,  what  do  you  think  of  your  'bum'  fighter, 
H'alf?"  Greenfield  was  a  good  man  in  his 
class,  but  I  made  this  remark  as  a  retort  to  what 
they  had  said  before  the  fight. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  107 

This  fight  was  Sullivan's  last  contest  in  New 
York  City,  although  he  gave  several  friendly  ex- 
hibitions later  on. 

At  this  time  Sullivan  was  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Pat  Sheedy,  and  shortly  after  the 
Greenfield  affair  left  for  a  tour  of  the  country. 
John  L.  was  meeting  all  comers,  and  he  disposed 
of  them  as  easily  as  he  had  on  his  previous 
trips.  A  match  was  made  for  him  to  meet 
Paddy  Ryan  in  San  Francisco.  He  knocked 
Paddy  out  in  two  rounds  without  any  trouble. 
The  latter,  however,  got  $3,000  to  heal  his 
wounded  feelings. 

On  his  way  home  John  L.  met  Patsy  Car- 
diff, of  Minnesota,  in  Minneapolis.  Cardiff 
was  a  finely-built  fellow  above  five  feet 
eleven,  and  weighed  185  pounds.  He  was  very 
clever,  but  lacked  nerve.  He  did  nothing  but 
clinch,  clinch,  and  the  first  round  was  a  series 
of  clinches  from  one  end  to  the  other.  The  sec- 
ond round  was  about  the  same.  In  the  third 
John  L.  walked  right  up  to  him  with  his  hands 


108    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

down,  trying  to  get  him  to  come  to  him,  so  as 
to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  counter  him.  Car- 
diff jumped  back  into  a  corner,  and  as  he  ducked 
to  get  out  John  L.  sprang  in  and  uppercut  him 
with  his  left  hand  on  the  top  of  the  head,  break- 
ing his  arm  above  the  wrist.  He  was  in  great 
pain,  but  did  not  have  to  use  this  arm  again, 
as  Cardiff  would  not  come  within  hitting  dis- 
tance of  him  after  that.  He  was  a  good  runner 
and  sprinted  all  through  the  bout.  Sullivan  got 
the  decision.  My  pupil,  John  Donaldson,  Car- 
diff's partner  in  business  out  there,  said  that 
Cardiff  told  him  that  he  thought  Sullivan  had 
hit  him  with  a  bar  of  iron  when  this  blow  landed 
on  top  of  his  head. 

When  John  L.  came  back  to  New  York  he  had 
to  have  his  arm  broken  over  again.  It  had  been 
improperly  set,  and  to  this  day  Sullivan's  left 
arm  is  crooked.  It  was  something  like  a  year 
before  he  put  on  a  glove. 

Sullivan  had  that  fighting  instinct  which  made 
him  want  to  be  at  his  profession  all  of  the  time. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  109 

He  had  a  leather  brace  made  for  his  arm,  and 
went  on  the  road.  He  stopped  at  Baltimore, 
where  Kilrain  was  living  at  the  time,  and  chal- 
lenged him,  but  Kilrain  did  not  accept.  About 
this  time  I  was  giving  my  annual  show  at  the 
Broadway  Hall,  New  York  City,  where  the 
Broadway  Theater  is  now  located.  Kilrain 
came  on  to  box  with  me.  After  reading  the 
morning  papers,  in  which  Sullivan  had  called 
Kilrain  a  cur  and  blackguarded  him  generally, 
I  said  to  Kilrain,  "Why,  Jake,  you  wouldn't  let 
a  man  talk  that  way  about  you  without  fighting 
him,  would  you?"  Kilrain  excused  himself  by 
saying  he  couldn't  get  a  backer. 

That  day  I  received  a  telephone  message  from 
the  Sun  office,  asking  me  if  Kilrain  was  in 
town,  and  saying  they  would  send  a  man  up  to 
interview  him.  I  replied  that  we  were  going 
downtown  and  we  would  call  at  the  Sun  office. 
We  did  call  there  during  the  day,  and  I  intro- 
duced him  to  the  editor.  He  assigned  a  man  to 
interview  him,  The  reporter  got  very  little  out 


110    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

of  Kilrain.  It  looked  to  me  as  though  he  was 
even  afraid  to  talk,  although  Sullivan  was  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away. 

The  next  time  I  saw  Sullivan  was  in  Boston 
in  1887  when  I  boxed  with  him  on  the  night  of 
the  presentation  of  the  $5,000  championship 
belt.  This  was  just  before  his  trip  to  England, 
where  his  well-known  fight  with  Mitchell  oc- 
curred. After  his  return  to  this  country  in  1888 
he  had  a  very  severe  attack  of  typhoid  fever, 
and  for  a  long  time  was  not  expected  to  live. 
When  he  recovered  he  was  only  a  shadow  of  his 
former  self.  Charley  Mitchell,  getting  news 
that  he  was  sick,  thought  this  would  be  his 
chance  to  get  Kilrain  to  beat  Sullivan,  Kilrain 
being  in  England  at  that  time,  posing  around  as 
champion.  He  accordingly  sailed  for  this  coun- 
try and  made  a  match,  acting  as  Kilrain 's 
backer.  This  fight  was  for  $10,000  a  side,  and 
was  to  take  place  in  the  neighborhood  of  New 
Orleans.  About  this  time  I  received  a  letter 
from  my  old  friend,  Dave  Henessey,  afterward 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  111 

assassinated  by  the  Mafia,  who  was  then  Chief 
of  Police  at  New  Orleans,  asking  me  if  I  could 
not  arrange  to  get  the  management  of  the  ex- 
cursions to  the  affair  for  his  friend,  Bud 
Renault. 

There  was  an  impression  abroad  at  that  time 
that  Kilrain  would  not  get  fair  play  in  the  com- 
ing fight,  and  when  I  went  to  Richard  K.  Fox 
about  the  matter  he  proposed  that  I  act  as  Kil- 
rain's  second  and  go  to  New  Orleans  at  once  to 
pave  the  way  for  the  match.  I  cared  nothing 
for  Kilrain,  but  the  terms  were  favorable.  I  ac- 
cepted, and  left  a  day  or  two  later  with  Frank 
Stevenson,  Mr.  Fox's  financial  adviser,  who  was 
to  manage  the  whole  affair.  I  telegraphed  the 
Chief  I  was  coming.  When  we  got  within  about 
seventy-five  miles  of  New  Orleans  several 
friends  of  mine  met  us.  Bud  Renault  was  in  the 
party.  I  was  impressed  with  Renault's  person- 
ality and  prevailed  on  Stevenson  to  give  him  the 
excursion  privilege.  This  caused  Chief  Henes- 
sey  to  be  favorably  inclined  toward  us. 


112    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

We  left  the  train  at  Green  Eiver,  Mississippi, 
and  tried  to  discover  a  good  ground  for  the 
fight.  We  found  no  suitable  place,  and  Charley 
Rich,  who  had  met  us  there,  induced  us  to  go  to 
Eichburg,  Mississippi,  his  home,  to  try  and  find 
a  battleground,  which  we  did  and  finally  decided 
to  hold  the  fight  there. 

We  then  went  on  to  New  Orleans,  where  I  en- 
joyed a  great  reception.  At  the  station  I  was 
met  with  carriages  and  escorted  to  the  Southern 
Athletic  Club.  I  had  a  glorious  time  in  New 
Orleans,  where  I  stopped  with  my  old  friend 
and  boxing  teacher,  Pat  Kendrick,  the  only  man 
who  ever  gave  me  a  boxing  lesson.  I  was  wined 
and  dined  every  night,  and  was  glad  to  leave  to 
meet  Kilrain  and  his  party  at  Green  Eiver  ten 
days  later,  for  I  knew  I  could  not  stand  the 
pace  I  was  going — the  late  hours  knocked  me 
out,  although  I  hadn't  had  a  drop  of  liquor 
during  my  stay  there. 

Kilrain  was  accompanied  by  Charley  Mitch- 
ell. After  shaking  hands  we  sat  down  for  a 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  113 

chat.  I  noticed  a  stout  man  about  55  years  of 
age,  with  a  decided  limp,  walking  up  and  down 
and  watching  each  of  us  closely.  I  turned  to 
Mitchell  and  asked  who  he  was. 

"Why,  he's  Norris,  the  detective  I  hired  in 
Cincinnati  to  see  us  through,"  he  replied. 
.     ' ' See  you  through ?' '  I  said.  « '  You  don 't  need 
any  one  to  see  you  through.  You'll  be  surprised 
at  the  reception  you  will  get  in  New  Orleans." 

When  we  reached  New  Orleans  a  committee 
from  the  Southern  Athletic  Club  was  at  the  sta- 
tion with  carriages  and  carry-alls  to  meet  us. 
They  had  been  sent  by  the  president  of  the  club, 
Mr.  Bud  Walmsley.  We  drove  to  the  club, 
where  Kilrain  was  offered  the  gymnasium  to 
finish  his  training,  and  the  annex,  a  private 
house,  as  sleeping  quarters  for  his  party. 

At  the  station  Mitchell  was  met  by  a  short, 
chunky  man,  whom  he  greeted  cordially.  I 
asked  Stevenson  who  he  was.  He  replied, 
"That's  Bat  Masterson."  That  was  the  first 
time  I  ever  saw  him. 


114    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Bat  never  stirred  from  Mitchell's  side  until 
the  latter  left  New  Orleans. 

During  our  stay  at  the  club  Mitchell  ordered 
Kilrain  around  like  a  lackey,  Jake  obeying  like 
a  boy.  Several  members  of  the  club  spoke  to 
me  about  it,  saying  Kilrain  didn't  act  much  like 
a  man  who  could  beat  Sullivan. 

I  spoke  to  Kilrain  about  the  matter  the  next 
morning,  the  day  before  the  fight,  saying: 
"Jake,  what  do  you  let  Mitchell  order  you 
around  for?  You  are  the  man  -who's  going  to 
do  the  fighting — not  he." 

He  made  some  excuse,  but  conditions  con- 
tinued to  be  the  same. 

Mitchell  had  a  much  stronger  character,  and 
was  able  to  dominate  him.  Mitchell's  attitude 
made  me  mad.  He  posed  as  the  big  man  of  the 
party,  taking  the  credit  from  Kilrain,  to  whom 
it  rightly  belonged.  If  it  had  not  been  for  my 
agreement  with  Mr.  Fox,  who  had  always 
treated  me  most  fairly,  I  would  have  thrown 
up  my  job  then  and  there. 


J.    L.    SULLIVAN— 1886 


THE  BOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW!  115 

That  afternoon,  Sunday,  we  left  to  go  to  the 
special  train  that  was  to  take  Kilrain  and  his 
party  and  Sullivan  and  his  crowd  to  the  battle- 
ground. I  got  two  carriages  and,  putting  the 
luggage  in  one,  got  in  with  Johnny  Murphy,  our 
bottle-holder,  and  started;  Mitchell,  Kilrain, 
Bat  Masterson  and  Pony  Moore,  Mitchell's 
father-in-law,  following  in  the  other. 

While  Johnny  and  I  were  waiting  for  the  oth- 
ers, Sullivan  came  through  the  station,  accom- 
panied by  Billy  Muldoon,  who  had  trained  him 
for  this  fight,  and  Mike  Cleary,  his  second. 

Sullivan  walked  with  a  quick,  springy  step. 
As  he  passed  he  gave  me  a  glance  that  bordered 
on  contempt.  In  spite  of  this  I  could  not  help 
but  admire  his  magnificent  figure,  as  he  was  in 
excellent  shape.  I  had  not  believed  he  could 
get  into  such  fine  condition.  All  thoughts  of 
Kilrain 's  winning  vanished  from  my  mind. 

I  turned  to  Murphy  and  said,  ''Johnny,  we 
are  going  to  second  a  loser  to-morrow  as  sure 
as  you  live."  He  replied,  "Oh,  Sullivan's  only 
throwing  a  bluff." 


116    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

"Kilrain  will  think  as  I  do  the  minute  he 
claps  eyes  on  Sullivan, ' '  I  told  him. 

We  waited  and  waited,  but  Kilrain  and  the 
rest  did  not  appear.  Finally  the  train  pulled 
out.  My  first  thought  was  that  some  one  in  the 
Sullivan  party  had  put  up  a  job  on  us.  I  rushed 
up  to  the  station-master  and  offered  him  one 
hundred  dollars  to  give  me  an  engine  and  car 
to  catch  the  train.  The  station-master  then  told 
me  Kilrain  and  his  party  had  gone  to  a  point 
three  blocks  below  the  station  and  had  sent  a 
messenger,  telling  him  to  stop  the  train  there 
for  them. 

I  never  understood  this  action  on  Mitchell's 
part.  I  can't  believe  Charley  Mitchell  was 
afraid  to  walk  through  that  station,  although 
he  did  pretend  all  of  the  time  that  he  was  in 
the  South  that  he  was  in  danger  of  being  shot 

on  account  of  his  draw  with  Sullivan.    He  al- 
i 

ways  carried  two  guns.  I'm  more  inclined, 
however,  to  think  that  he  was  posing,  in  order 
to  draw  attention  to  himself,  for  Mitchell  was 
as  game  a  man  as  ever  lived. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  117 

As  a  result  of  this  affair  I  had  to  wait  for 
the  excursion  train  that  night  and  arrived  at 
Richburg  the  following  morning  tired  out. 

I  went  to  Rich's  house  at  once  to  see  Kilrain. 
Sullivan  was  quartered  in  another  house  near 
by.  Just  as  I  got  inside  the  door  Mitchell 
rushed  up  and  asked  me  why  I  hadn't  taken  the 
special  train.  I  replied  that  he  knew  why  I 
hadn't,  saying  that  he  allowed  me  to  wait  for 
him  at  the  station  without  telling  me  he  was 
not  coming  there,  when  we  had  arranged,  before 
we  left  the  club,  that  we  should  all  meet  there 
and  get  on  the  train  together. 

Mitchell  kept  growling  about  not  getting  the 
lunch  he  had  prepared  for  Kilrain.  I  got  tired 
of  it,  and  said  to  him:  ''What's  the  matter 
with  you,  Mitchell?  Do  you  think  you  are  a 
bigger  man  than  Sullivan  ?  He  walked  through 
the  station."  Then  I  added:  ' 'I  wasn't  going 
to  carry  those  heavy  bags  of  yours  on  to  the 
train.  Why  didn't  you  come  and  put  them  on 
yourself?" 


118    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I  went  into  Rich's  bedroom,  where  Kilrain 
was  dressing  for  the  fight.  " Hello,  Jake,"  I 
said.  "How  are  you?"  I  reproached  him  for 
not  coming  to  the  station  for  Murphy  and  me. 
He  said  it  was  Mitchell's  doing,  not  his.  He 
was  very  nervous,  although  he  controlled  him- 
self as  best  he  could. 

About  this  time  Bud  Renault  came  in  and, 
calling  me  out  on  the  porch,  told  me  that  the 
county  magistrate  had  threatened  to  read  the 
riot  act  and  stop  the  fight  unless  he  got  $250. 
Eenault  said  Johnson,  Sullivan's  backer, 
wanted  to  postpone  the  fight  and  pull  it  off 
somewhere  else.  He  asked  me  what  to  do.  I 
knew  Kilrain  could  not  win  and  saw  an  oppor- 
tunity to  get  out  of  the  match  and  advised  Ee- 
nault not  to  give  up  the  money. 

Mitchell  immediately  spoke  up,  saying,  * '  Give 
it  to  him.  Don't  you  see  Sullivan's  afraid  to 
fight  Jake?" 

"Mitchell,"  said  I,  "you  were  never  more 
mistaken.  You  know  Sullivan  was  never  afraid 
of  a  man  in  his  life." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  119 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that  Renault 
gave  this  grafter  his  $250  and  he  withdrew  his 
opposition,  although  he  perfunctorily  read  the 
riot  act  from  the  ring. 

Kilrain  had  not  heard  this  conversation. 
Mitchell  went  into  his  room  and  explained  the 
matter  to  him,  again  saying  Sullivan  was  afraid 
to  go  on  with  the  fight.  Kilrain  looked  at  him 
stonily,  but  did  not  make  any  comment. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SULLIVAN   BEATS   KZLRAIN 

As  I  prepared  Kilrain  for  the  ring  I  studied 
him  closely.  He  acted  more  like  a  man  going 
to  his  own  execution  than  a  man  who  was  go- 
ing to  fight  for  the  championship.  He  was  cov- 
ered with  a  nervous  sweat,  and  his  eyes  were 
glazed. 

We  made  our  way  through  and  got  into  the 
ring,  arriving  there  first.  In  a  few  minutes 
Sullivan  appeared,  followed  by  Muldoon  and 
Cleary.  He  was  covered  with  a  bathrobe  and 
climbed  through  the  ropes  close  to  us  without 
looking  at  Kilrain,  and  walked  across  the  ring 
to  his  corner.  He  threw  off  his  bathrobe,  say- 
ing to  Pat  Duffy  as  he  did  so,  "  Watch  me  lick 
that  fellow  now."  He  turned  his  back  to  us 

130 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  121 

and  extended  his  arms  horizontally.  He  turned 
and  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  Kilrain  with  a 
savage  frown,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Look  at  me." 
His  great  arms  and  flat,  broad  shoulders  were 
covered  with  muscles.  His  deltoid  muscles  stood 
out  so  prominently  that  he  looked  like  a  giant. 
He  had  not  been  in  such  good  shape  since  I 
met  him  in  Boston  in  1880 — nine  years  before. 
He  was  heavily  tanned  from  exercising  in  the 
open  air.  Muldoon  had  worked  wonders  with 
him. 

I  said  to  Kilrain,  "Look  at  him,  Jake."  He 
looked  up.  The  whole  expression  of  his  face 
changed,  and  he  dropped  his  head. 

A  friend  of  mine  at  the  ring-side  whispered 
to  me,  "That  fellow's  licked  now." 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

Time  was  called,  and  they  walked  to  the 
scratch,  where  Jake  and  Sullivan  shook  hands. 
It  was  customary  then  for  the  seconds  to  shake 
hands  also.  I  shook  with  Cleary,  and  Mitchell 
with  Muldoon.  We  then  returned  to  our  cor- 
ners. 


122    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Kilrain,  in  comparison  with  Sullivan,  looked 
like  a  middleweight,  although  he  weighed  180 
pounds.  He  was  taller  than  Sullivan,  but  was 
round-shouldered  and  looked  narrow-chested. 

Sullivan  led  his  left  for  the  head.  Kilrain 
side-stepped  and  got  away.  Sullivan  again  led 
with  his  left.  Kilrain  ducked  and  clinched,  try- 
ing for  the  fall  (London  Prize  Ring  rules). 
Sullivan  threw  him  easily  and  fell  on  him 
heavily. 

In  the  second  round  they  were  sparring  for 
an  opening  when  Kilrain  stabbed  his  left  into 
Sullivan's  mouth,  drawing  a  little  blood,  duck- 
ing to  avoid  a  counter.  Sullivan  stepped  back 
and  said,  "Say,  Jake,  can't  you  hit  harder  than 
that  ? "  I  heard  him  and  cried : « '  It  hurt  him  all 
right,  Jake.  Do  it  again." 

Sullivan  rushed,  swinging  his  right;  Kilrain 
got  inside,  Sullivan's  arm  going  round  his  neck. 
He  tried  for  the  fall.  Sullivan  threw  him. 

The  third  opened  with  Kilrain  rushing  in  to  a 
clinch.  Sullivan  threw  hirr>r  When  Kilrain 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  123 

came  back  to  his  corner  Mitchell  told  him  he 
was  doing  right  in  trying  to  wrestle  with  Sul- 
livan. I  said  to  him :  "If  you  fight  him  another 
round  like  that  he'll  beat  you.  Keep  away — be 
clever — fight  at  long  range.  Take  my  advice. 
It's  your  only  chance." 

The  falls  had  hurt  him.  He  was  tired  then, 
so  he  took  my  advice  and  kept  away,  and  up  to 
the  thirty-fifth  round  falling  without  being  hit 
and  doing  everything  possible  to  prolong  the 
battle. 

If  Sullivan  had  been  as  fast  as  he  was  at  his 
best,  Kilrain  wouldn't  have  lasted  three  rounds. 
As  it  was,  he  carried  too  much  flesh,  weighing 
over  210  pounds,  although  he  was  stronger  than 
he  had  been  for  some  time. 

In  the  thirty-fifth  round  Sullivan  led  with  his 
left*  Kilrain  stepped  back  and  tripped.  Sulli- 
van overbalanced  as  he  led  and  fell  with  his 
knees  on  the  other's  neck.  This  was  uninten- 
tional on  Sullivan's  part. 

We  carried  Kilrain  to  his  corner,  with  his 


124    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

head  rolling  from  side  to  side.  He  was  more 
dead  than  alive.  I  said  to  Mitchell,  "It's  all 
over,  Charley,"  as  I  didn't  think  Kilrain  could 
come  up  for  the  next  round.  A  glass  of  whisky 
revived  him. 

He  kept  away  from  Sullivan  after  that.  In 
the  fortieth  round  Sullivan  was  seized  with  a 
vomiting  spell  in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  due  to 
drinking  ice-cold  tea  and  sucking  a  lemon,  which 
nauseated  him.  The  vomiting  was  not  due  to 
lack  of  condition. 

I  had  noticed  Sullivan  gulping  before,  and 
told  Jake  to  go  for  his  stomach,  but  he  was 
afraid  to  go  near  him. 

Sullivan's  hands  were  at  his  side,  his  head 
tilted  forward.  He  stood  that  way  for  ten  sec- 
onds. I  shouted  to  Kilrain  to  hit  him  in  the 
stomach,  but  he  made  no  attempt  to  rush.  In- 
stead he  said,  "John,  I'll  call  it  a  draw  with 
you." 

Sullivan  replied,  "No,  we'll  fight  it  out,"  and 
rushed  at  him.  Kilrain  fell  without  being  hit. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  125 

Chief  Henessey  had  promised  me  personal 
protection  in  case  of  trouble,  but  had  warned 
me  not  to  bring  attention  to  myself.  I  kept  ad- 
vising Kilrain  in  a  low  tone,  telling  him  not  to 
be  afraid  of  Sullivan's  left  hand,  as  it  was  sore, 
cautioning  him,  however,  to  avoid  Sullivan's 
right.  This  nettled  John  L.,  and  as  he  told 
me  afterward  he  made  up  his  mind  to  hit  Kil- 
rain once  with  his  left  to  dispel  this  impres- 
sion, and  in  the  fiftieth  round  he  landed  fair  on 
Kilrain 's  nose  with  his  left,  causing  the  latter  to 
turn  a  back  somersault.  This  was  the  cleanest 
and  hardest  blow  of  the  fight  up  to  that  time. 

I  wanted  Mitchell  to  quit  then,  knowing  Kil- 
rain had  no  chance,  and  fearing  that  if  he  were 
knocked  out  he'd  never  recover  consciousness. 
He  was  very  weak.  Mitchell  would  not  hear  of 
it,  and  let  him  go  on,  saying  from  time  to  time : 
"  You've  got  him,  Jake.  You've  got  him."  It 
made  me  mad  to  see  this  game  fellow  sacrificed, 
and  I  said  to  Mitchell,  "For  God's  sake,  how, 
Charley?" 


126    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

The  fight  became  a  farce  after  the  fiftieth 
round.  Kilrain  was  so  weak  he  was  falling 
from  exhaustion,  and  Sullivan  was  creeping 
round  like  a  snail. 

It  continued  this  way  to  the  seventy-fourth 
round,  when  I  saw  Sullivan  was  getting 
stronger,  and  said  to  Kilrain:  "Jake,  you 
haven't  a  chance  on  earth.  Let  me  give  in  for 
you." 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "I'd  rather  die." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "I'll  let  you  fight  this 
round;  but,  for  God's  sake,  don't  let  him  hit 
you  in  the  jaw.  If  he  does,  you'll  never  recover 
consciousness." 

Time  was  called,  and  he  went  to  the  scratch. 
He  walked  around  the  ring  once,  Sullivan  fol- 
lowing. He  got  Jake  into  the  corner  and 
stepped  in.  Kilrain  was  so  weak  he  had  to 
spread  his  legs  to  support  himself.  He  could 
scarcely  raise  his  arms.  I  saw  Sullivan  in- 
tended to  hit  him  in  the  jaw,  and  rushed  along 
the  ropes  until  I  was  close  to  him  and  called. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  127 

"Jake,  for  God's  sake,  put  up  your  guard."  He 
raised  his  arms  slowly,  and  as  he  did  so  Sulli- 
van crashed  his  right  to  the  body.  Kilrain  col- 
lapsed, his  eyes  rolling  in  their  sockets.  We 
carried  him  to  his  corner.  He  was  gone. 

I  said:  "That  settles  it.  I'm  going  over."  I 
rushed  over  to  the  referee,  John  Fitzpatrick, 
and  said,  "I  give  over.  My  man's  beat." 

' '  Throw  up  the  sponge,  then, ' '  he  said.  I  did 
as  he  directed.  On  looking  round  I  saw  Mitch- 
ell in  Sullivan's  corner  and  wondered  what  he 
was  doing  there. 

Charley  Johnson,  Sullivan's  backer,  sang 
out : ' ' No,  no,  that  don't  go.  Donovan  threw  the 
sponge  up." 

It  seems  Mitchell  had  asked  Sullivan  if  he 
would  give  Kilrain  $2,000  if  he'd  throw  up  the 
sponge  and  John  had  assented,  not  because  he 
believed  he  couldn't  win,  but  from  that  generous 
disregard  of  money  he'd  always  shown. 

Mitchell  rushed  back  and  picked  Kilrain  up 
and  carried  him  to  the  scratch,  motioning  to 


128    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Sullivan,  saying,  "Come  on;  we'll  fight  to  the 
death." 

I'd  already  seen  two  men  die  from  being 
knocked  out  when  in  an  exhausted  condition, 
and  sprang  out  and  stopped  it  again,  saying, 
"I  will  not  be  a  party  to  manslaughter."  Kil- 
rain  began  to  cry.  I  said  to  him:  "Jake,  you 
are  a  game  fellow.  You  fought  the  best  you 
knew  how.  The  papers  will  give  you  full 
credit."  And  they  did. 

Kilrain  was  so  weak  he  couldn't  get  out  of 
the  ring  until  the  ropes  had  been  taken  down. 

We  put  him  in  a  buggy  after  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  as  he  was  horribly  sunburned  and 
badly  beaten.  Every  movement  he  made  hurt 
him.  We  drove  him  down  to  the  train. 

Kilrain  could  never  have  gone  through  this 
fight  without  whisky,  of  which  he  drank  over 
a  quart  between  the  rounds. 

We  got  him  aboard  the  train  after  a  good 
deal  of  trouble. 

Jake  was  suffering  terribly  from  sunburn, 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  129 

the  day  having  been  very  hot.  His  back  was 
a  mass  of  huge  blisters.  Sullivan  had  no  trou- 
ble in  this  respect,  as  Muldoon  had  trained  him 
in  the  open  air,  and  his  back  and  arms  were 
heavily  tanned.  When  we  got  aboard  the  train 
I  took  a  seat  beside  Jake  and  tried  to  cheer  him 
up.  Mitchell  went  forward  into  the  smoking- 
car. 

Shortly  after  the  train  started  Kilrain  began 
to  groan  and  complain  of  a  severe  pain  in  his 
left  side.  This  alarmed  me,  as  I  thought  his 
heart  might  be  affected.  I  rushed  into  the  next 
car  and  inquired  for  a  doctor.  One  responded, 
and  I  asked  him  to  come  back  and  look  at  Jake, 
as  I  thought  he  was  in  bad  shape.  He  did  so, 
and  after  examining  him  for  a  moment  told  me 
there  was  no  danger,  as  the  pain  was  the  result 
of  inflammation  caused  by  the  last  blow  Sulli- 
van had  struck  him. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mitchell  came  in  and  in- 
quired as  to  Kilrain 's  condition.  Jake  replied 
quietly  that  he  was  all  right.  He  seemed  to 


130    THE  BOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

realize  that  Mitchell  cared  nothing  for  him,  but 
had  only  used  him  as  a  possible  means  of  beat- 
ing Sullivan.  In  fact,  it  had  been  arranged  that 
in  the  event  of  Kilrain  ?s  winning  he  and  Mitch- 
ell would  leave  at  once  for  England  with  their 
families,  where  Kilrain  would  take  up  his  resi- 
dence. Mitchell  of  course  would  have  profited 
greatly  in  that  event.  In  fact,  it  had  been  ar- 
ranged for  Charley  Eich  to  stop  the  north- 
bound Cannon  Ball  Express  to  take  Mitchell, 
Kilrain  and  Pony  Moore  aboard. 

As  Mitchell  turned  to  leave  I  said,  "  Charley, 
if  Jake  had  won  to-day  you  would  be  sitting 
right  where  I  am  now. ' '  He  made  no  reply,  but 
grinned  sarcastically  and  left  us. 

After  he  had  gone  Kilrain  said  to  me,  "Mike, 
you  were  the  only  true  friend  I  had  in  the  ring 
to-day. "  That  was  true,  for  Mitchell  would 
have  allowed  Kilrain  to  fight  as  long  as  he  could 
stand  up,  and  if  he  had  been  allowed  to  go  on 
after  receiving  the  body  punch  Sullivan  gave 
him  in  the  seventy-fifth  round  I  don't  believe  he 
would  ever  have  left  Eichburg  alive. 


DONOVAN   DUCKING   RIGHT   CROSS   AND   PUTTING   LEFT   TO 
BODY 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  131 

When  we  got  to  New  Orleans  we  went  at 
once  to  the  Southern  Athletic  Club,  where  we 
gave  Kilrain  a  warm  bath  and  put  him  to  bed. 
He  was  in  horrible  condition — so  sore  and 
burned  that  he  could  hardly  be  touched.  After 
he  had  been  put  to  bed  I  sent  out  and  got  sev- 
eral large  jars  of  cold  cream,  and  tearing  one  of 
my  white  linen  shirts  into  strips  made  plasters 
for  his  blistered  back. 

Just  then  Chief  of  Police  Henessey  came  in 
to  inquire  after  Kilrain.  Jake  told  him  he  was 
all  right,  but  was  pretty  sore. 

"Chief,"  I  said,  "he  is  afraid  the  Mississippi 
State  authorities  will  make  trouble  for  him." 

The  Chief  said:  "Kilrain,  you  needn't  worry 
about  that.  I'll  take  care  of  you.  If  they  come 
here  after  you  they  must  see  me  first.  If  they 
don't  I'll  lock  them  up.  You  are  all  right." 

I  left  him  in  charge  of  Johnny  Murphy  and 
went  down  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  where  an 
incident  occurred  of  which  Mitchell  is  in  igno- 
rance to  this  day. 


132    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Mitchell  was  posing  around  the  hotel  rotunda, 
treating  people  in  a  superior  and  patronizing 
manner,  Bat  Masterson  following  him  like  a 
shadow. 

As  I  stood  watching  him  I  was  approached 
by  a  young  friend  of  mine  named  Reynolds. 
After  chatting  a  few  moments  he  pointed  at 
Mitchell  and  said,  "I'm  going  to  kill  that  Eng- 
lishman to-night. " 

"My  Lord!  what  are  you  going  to  do  that 
for?"  I  asked  aghast,  knowing  he  was  a 
"killer"  and  would  be  as  good  as  his  word. 
"Didn't  I  second  Kilrain  against  Sullivan  to- 
day as  well  as  he!" 

He  replied  that  I  was  all  right,  but  it  made 
him  mad  to  see  Mitchell  strutting  around  put- 
ting on  airs. 

I  told  Eeynolds  I  thought  that  a  small  ex- 
cuse for  killing  a  man,  adding,  "Don't  you  see 
Bat  Masterson  with  him?  He  might  kill  you." 

Quick  as  a  flash  he  replied,  "Well,  then,  I'll 
kill  him,  too." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  133 

I  saw  that  if  I  didn't  get  Reynolds  away 
quickly  he  would  make  trouble,  so  I  induced  him 
to  go  downstairs  to  the  other  bar  of  the  hotel 
to  talk  things  over.  I  did  my  best  to  get  him 
to  say  he  would  not  do  as  he  threatened,  but  he 
was  obstinate  and  finally  insisted  on  returning 
to  the  rotunda.  When  we  got  upstairs  I  found, 
much  to  my  relief,  that  Mitchell  and  Masterson 
had  left  the  place. 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  Mitchell 
came  to  Kilrain's  room  and  saw  him  for  the 
first  time  since  he  left  him  a  few  minutes  out 
of  Richburg.  He  told  him  the  Mississippi 
State  authorities  were  in  town  after  them  and 
urged  him  to  leave,  telling  him  to  put  on  his 
clothes  and  come  at  once. 

Kilrain  got  up  and  dressed.  How  he  ever  got 
his  clothes  on  in  the  condition  he  was,  let  alone 
bearing  the  weight  of  them,  is  more  than  I  can 
understand. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  that  Kilrain  had  the 
pluck  to  put  up  the  fight  he  did  against  Sulli- 


134    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

van,  but  lacked  the  moral  courage  to  say  "no" 
to  Mitchell,  as  he  must  have  known,  after 
Chief  Henessey's  assurances,  that  he  was 
perfectly  safe.  Mitchell,  however,  dominated 
him  completely,  and  he  obeyed  his  every  com- 
mand without  question.  They  left  town  on  the 
first  train. 

That  day  I  was  approached  by  the  detective 
whom  Mitchell  had  hired  as  a  bodyguard  in 
Cincinnati.  He  was  wild  with  rage,  saying  that 
Mitchell  had  promised  him  $250  for  his  serv- 
ices and  had  skipped  without  paying  him  for 
protecting  him  on  the  way  down.  Norris  after- 
ward went  to  the  Governor  of  Mississippi  and 
induced  him  to  issue  warrants  for  the  princi- 
pals and  seconds  concerned  in  the  fight,  telling 
the  Governor  he  would  guarantee  to  bring  them 
back  for  trial. 

He  at  once  started  in  pursuit  of  Mitchell  and 
Kilrain,  following  them  through  Arkansas, 
Missouri  and  Indiana,  and  finally  overtaking 
Kilrain  in  Baltimore,  where  he  placed  him  un- 
der arrest. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  135 

They  had  a  hard  time,  leaving  trains  at  way 
stations  and  driving  across  the  country  in  bug- 
gies, trying  to  throw  him  off  the  scent. 

As  a  result  of  this  foolishness,  which  could 
all  have  been  avoided  if  Mitchell  had  paid  his 
honest  debt  to  Norris,  Billy  Muldoon,  Mike 
Cleary  and  myself  were  forced  to  return  to 
Mississippi  in  the  winter  of  1890  to  answer  the 
charge  of  being  directly  implicated  in  the  Sul- 
Jivan-Kilrain  fight. 

When  we  reached  Richburg,  Mississippi, 
where  the  fight  had  occurred,  Mr.  Charley  Rich 
put  up  security  for  our  bail,  which  saved  us 
from  lying  in  jail  until  the  following  June. 

While  we  were  in  Richburg  we  received  an 
offer  from  Mr.  Walmsley,  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned before,  to  give  a  combination  boxing  and 
wrestling  exhibition  in  New  Orleans  on  a  basis 
of  60  per  cent,  of  the  gross  receipts.  We  gave 
the  show  and  succeeded  in  making  enough  to 
pay  the  expenses  of  our  trip  from  New  York 
and  during  our  stay  in  the  South,  so  we  were 
yery  well  satisfied. 


CHAPTER  IX 

CORBETT  COMES  ON  THE  SCENE 

WHILE  we  were  in  New  Orleans  Jim  Corbett, 
who  was  just  coming  into  prominence,  was 
matched  to  fight  Jake  Kilrain,  who  was  also  in 
New  Orleans,  six  rounds  at  the  Southern  Ath- 
letic Club  about  a  week  later.  Corbett  arrived 
in  town  from  San  Francisco,  and  as  soon  as  he 
learned  I  was  there  he  expressed  a  desire  to  see 
me,  and  a  meeting  was  arranged.  The  next  day 
he  came  to  see  me. 

There  were  several  men  besides  myself  in  the 
room,  but  he  walked  straight  up  to  me,  saying : 
"How  are  you,  Mike?  I'm  glad  to  meet  you." 

"How  did  you  know  me?"  I  asked. 

Corbett  laughed  and  then  explained  that  h« 
had  heard  a  great  deal  about  me  from  my 

186 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  137 

friends  in  San  Francisco,  and  that  they  had  de- 
scribed my  appearance  and  shown  him  so  many 
photographs  that  he  would  have  known  me  any- 
where. 

When  we  sat  down  I  had  a  chance  to  look 
him  over.  He  was  a  big  boy  in  appearance; 
tall  and  slender,  but  with  wide  shoulders  and 
clean-cut  limbs.  I  liked  his  looks  very  much  on 
the  whole. 

I  asked  him  what  kind  of  a  man  Peter  Jack- 
son was,  more  to  sound  his  knowledge  of  boxing 
than  to  learn  anything  about  Jackson. 

He  sprang  up  and  assumed  a  boxing  position, 
showing  me  how  Jackson  delivered  a  blow  and 
how  he  used  his  legs.  He  imitated  to  perfec- 
tion that  little  backward  skip  which  Jackson 
could  do  so  well. 

When  he  had  finished  he  had  given  us  an  ac- 
tual picture  of  Jackson  in  action  and  also  shown 
me  that  he  understood  the  art  of  boxing  thor- 
oughly. I  told  Corbett  he  had  come  along  just 
in  time  to  beat  John  L. 


138    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

He  appeared  to  be  much  surprised  at  my 
statement,  and  protested  that  he  could  not  beat 
Sullivan,  saying  the  latter  was  much  too  big  for 
him. 

I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  seen  Sullivan  box, 
and  he  told  me  he  had  seen  him  beat  Robinson 
and  Paddy  Ryan  in  San  Francisco  a  few  years 
before. 

I  told  him  that  Sullivan  now  and  Sullivan  at 
the  time  he  beat  Paddy  Ryan  were  altogether 
different  propositions,  and  added  that  he,  being 
a  boy  when  he  saw  the  fights,  probably  had  an 
exaggerated  idea  of  the  ability  of  both  men,  and 
that  a  little  more  fighting  experience  would 
probably  make  him  see  things  in  a  very  differ- 
ent light.  I  told  him  the  coming  fight  with  Kil- 
rain  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  in  the  way 
of  experience,  adding  that  Sullivan  would  not 
fight  again  for  another  year,  and  that  every 
year  he  remained  idle  would  make  John  L. 
easier  to  beat,  while  he  would  be  gaining  knowl- 
edge and  experience.  Corbett  then  asked  me 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  139 

some  questions  as  to  Kilrain's  ability  and  his 
style  of  boxing. 

In  the  room  with  us  at  this  time  were  several 
friends  and  admirers  of  Kilrain,  and  as  I  did 
not  like  to  speak  freely  in  their  presence  I  said 
to  Corbett,  in  a  low  tone,  that  if  he  would  go 
with  me  to  a  restaurant  in  St.  Charles  Street  I 
would  give  him  all  the  information  I  could  in 
regard  to  Kilrain. 

Accordingly,  Corbett,  my  old  friend  Pat 
Kendrick,  his  son  James  and  myself  went 
across  to  a  little  restaurant  and  got  a  quiet 
table  in  a  corner.  We  had  a  long  talk  concern- 
ing Kilrain,  and  I  gave  Corbett  all  the  informa- 
tion I  had  at  my  command.  Pat  Kendrick,  who 
had  been  a  very  clever  man  in  his  younger  days 
and  who  was  a  close  student  of  the  game,  also 
gave  him  a  great  many  valuable  suggestions. 
After  we  had  been  talking  for  an  hour  or  more 
I  told  Corbett  that,  if  he  wished  us  to,  I  would 
come  to  his  training  quarters  and  show  him  all 
I  could  about  Kilrain,  and  that  I  would  bring 


140    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Mr.  Kendrick  and  his  son  with  me,  in  order 
that  they  might  coach  him  if  necessary,  al- 
though I  added  I  did  not  think  that  would  be 
necessary.  When  I  reached  his  quarters  that 
evening  I  illustrated  Kilrain's  style  of  boxing 
to  Corbett,  showing  him  that  while  Jake  was 
clever  in  guarding  and  ducking,  he  was  too  slow 
on  his  feet  to  be  a  really  clever  boxer. 

When  I  finished  speaking  Corbett  commenced 
to  "shadow-box,"  that  is,  dance  in  and  out  be- 
fore an  imaginary  opponent,  leading,  feinting 
and  ducking  with  remarkable  speed. 

He  displayed  to  me  then  the  wonderful  foot- 
work and  skill  which  afterward  caused  him  to  be 
spoken  of  as  the  cleverest  heavyweight  in  the 
world. 

It  is  needless  to  say  I  was  much  impressed  by 
his  work-out,  for  in  addition  to  his  great  clever- 
ness, Corbett  was  at  that  time  a  fine  specimen 
of  physical  manhood.  He  is  over  six  feet  in 
height  and  weighed  then  about  170  pounds.  He 
was  the  ideal  athlete,  his  muscular  development 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  141 

being  beautifully  symmetrical.  He  has  good 
shoulders,  a  small  waist  and  long,  perfectly 
modeled  limbs.  His  eyes  were  bright  and  lim- 
pid, and  his  skin  as  clear  as  that  of  a  child.  In 
addition  to  his  skill  and  physical  perfection, 
Corbett  showed  unmistakable  signs  of  strength 
and  great  endurance. 

When  he  had  finished  his  shadow-boxing,  I 
told  him  that  if  he  would  keep  cool  and  not  get 
nervous  Kilrain  would  not  be  able  to  lay  a  glove 
on  him  for  a  month.  This  gave  him  confidence, 
as  he  realized  I  knew  Kilrain  like  a  book. 

The  talk  then  turned  to  Corbett 's  future,  and 
I  told  him  if  he  would  come  to  New  York  after 
the  fight  I  would  introduce  him  to  every  one  con- 
nected with  boxing  there,  who  was  worth  know- 
ing, and  who  would  be  of  great  service  to  him 
later  on.  He  said  he  would  have  to  return  to 
San  Francisco  after  the  Kilrain  fight,  but  that 
he  intended  to  come  to  New  York  immediately 
after  that. 

I  left  wishing  him  all  kinds  of  good  luck  and 


142    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

he  promised  to  look  me  up  when  he  oame  to 
New  York. 

The  next  day  I  dropped  in  at  the  Cotton  Ex- 
change to  see  Mr.  Walmsley,  whom  I  found  in 
his  office  with  another  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Merritt. 

When  Mr.  Walmsley  heard  I  had  been  out  to 
see  Corbett  he  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  him. 

I  said:  "Mr.  Walmsley,  this  young  fellow 
Corbett  is  going  to  give  you  a  surprise. ' ' 

"How  so?"  he  asked.  "You  surely  don't 
think  he  can  beat  Kilrain,  do  you  1 ' ' 

"As  sure  as  you're  alive,"  I  answered.  "Cor- 
bett is  a  good  man,  and  if  you  have  a  fair  referee 
there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  All  he  needs  is  a 
fair  show.  Kilrain  is  a  favorite  in  the  club, 
and  it  may  be  hard  to  find  a  referee  who  will  be 
impartial. ' ' 

He  assured  me  Corbett  would  get  fair  treat- 
ment, saying  that  if  he  was  the  best  man  he 
would  win. 

He  did  not  take  my  prediction  very  seriously, 
however,  as  he  thought,  like  many  others,  that 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  143 

Kilrain's  fight  with  Sullivan  showed  him  to  be 
the  best  man  in  the  country  outside  of  John  L., 
when,  as  I  have  explained,  Kilrain  would  not 
have  lasted  one  round  with  Sullivan  if  he  had 
stood  and  fought  him  face  to  face. 

He  said  to  me:  "Why,  Mike,  Kilrain's  a 
great  fighter." 

I  replied:  "Very  well,  Mr.  Walmsley,  but  af- 
ter it's  over  remember  what  I  have  just  told 
you." 

Before  I  left  his  office  he  asked  me  who  I 
thought  would  be  a  good  man  to  act  as  referee. 
I  replied  that  I  didn't  know  any  man  in  the  club 
who  knew  more  about  boxing  than  Mr.  Merritt, 
who  was  still  in  the  room,  and  that  I  didn't 
think  a  better  choice  could  be  made. 

Mr.  Merritt  thanked  me  for  the  compliment, 
and  Mr.  Waknsley  arranged  for  him  to  act  as 
referee. 

I  bade  them  good-by  and  started  for  the  sta- 
tion, as  I  was  leaving  for  New  York  on  the  four- 
thirty  train. 


144    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Corbett  met  Kilrain  a  week  or  so  afterward 
and  justified  my  faith  in  him  by  getting  the  de- 
cision easily.  Kilrain  could  not  do  anything 
with  him. 

About  six  weeks  after  his  fight  with  Kilrain, 
Corbett  came  in  to  see  me  at  the  New  York  Ath- 
letic Club.  I  arranged  to  have  him  made  my 
guest  there.  Corbett  and  I  boxed  every  day  for 
a  month,  he  helping  me  with  my  pupils. 

I  told  Corbett  he  was  just  the  man  to  beat 
Sullivan,  adding  that  John  L.'s  tour  around  the 
country  would  not  improve  him  any,  and  telling 
him  that  if  he  didn't  go  after  Sullivan,  Slavin, 
the  Australian,  who  was  coming  to  the  front 
rapidly,  would  do  so.  I  told  Jim  I  would  rather 
have  him  beat  Sullivan,  as  he  was  an  American 
and  also  thought  that  on  that  account  Sullivan 
would  give  him  the  first  chance. 

In  our  daily  sparring  I  imitated  John  L.  as 
nearly  as  possible,  emphasizing  above  every- 
thing else  Sullivan's  three  blows : 

A  chop  with  the  left  to  beat  down  his  oppo- 
nent's guard; 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  145 

Shooting  in  the  right  fist  like  a  cannon-ball; 
or 

Swinging  the  right  arm  on  the  neck  like  a 
club. 

Corbett  constantly  practiced  avoiding  these 
blows. 

His  improvement  was  remarkable,  owing  to 
his  unusual  intelligence  and  quickness  to  grasp 
new  ideas.  For  example,  I  will  say  that  during 
the  first  week  I  could  hit  him  in  the  body  pretty 
often,  but  after  that  time  it  became  almost  im- 
possible to  reach  him. 

Corbett 's  head  was  always  hard  to  reach.  In 
fact,  he  might  well  boast  that  no  one  was  ever 
able  to  mark  him. 

Corbett  was  at  the  beginning  only  a  long- 
range  boxer.  I  taught  him  how  to  get  in  close 
and  put  force  in  his  blows  so  as  to  punish  his 
opponent's  body. 

About  this  time  I  told  Jim  I  thought  he  ought 
to  do  something  to  show  people  in  New  York 
just  what  he  could  do.  He  said  that  he  was 


146    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

willing,  and  I  went  to  Billy  O'Brien,  Dominick 
McCaffrey's  manager,  and  asked  him  if  we 
couldn't  arrange  for  Jim  and  Dominick  to  give 
a  four-round  exhibition. 

He  assented  and  the  match  was  arranged  for 
a  week  or  so  later.  The  men  met  and  the  bout 
was  stopped  in  the  third  round  by  the  referee, 
McCaffrey  hanging  on  the  ropes  helpless,  the 
result  of  Corbett's  effective  body  punching  at 
close  quarters. 

This  match  caused  a  great  deal  of  comment, 
and  Corbett  came  into  prominence  at  once ;  be- 
ing talked  about  all  over  the  country,  and  the 
newspapers  published  columns  about  him. 

After  this  affair  he  returned  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, where  he  became  boxing  instructor  of  the 
Olympic  Club  at  a  salary  of  $2,500  a  year.  I 
then  went  to  Mississippi  again,  where  I  was 
fined  for  my  connection  with  the  Sullivan-Kil- 
rain  fight. 

I  at  once  returned  to  New  York,  and  at  that 
time  I  wrote  Corbett,  saying  the  thing  he  needed 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  147 

most  was  work  with  heavy  tools,  and  advising 
him  to  do  three  or  four  hours'  work  a  day  in 
some  friend's  blacksmith  shop. 

Physical  labor  strengthens  an  athlete  more 
than  gymnasium  work,  as  the  jarring  of  the 
muscles  and  tendons  from  striking  heavy  blows 
gives  him  a  toughness  and  power  of  resistance 
which  he  cannot  gain  in  any  other  way. 

Corbett  had  never  done  any  manual  labor,  and 
while  his  muscles  were  well  developed,  they 
lacked  the  toughness  of  fiber  from  hard  work 
in  early  youth.  He  followed  my  advice  and  did 
this  for  some  weeks.  About  this  time  (1891)  a 
match  was  made  for  him  with  Peter  Jackson, 
the  great  Australian  champion. 

Jackson,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  born  in 
Kingston,  Jamaica,  and  went  to  Australia  when 
he  was  about  15  years  old,  as  a  cabin  boy  on  a 
ship. 

This  fight  lasted  over  sixty  rounds,  being  de- 
clared "no  contest,"  neither  man  being  able  to 
finish  the  other. 


148    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

After  this  fight  Corbett  went  on  the  road  un- 
der the  management  of  William  A.  Brady. 
Jackson  challenged  Corbett  to  a  return  fight, 
but  the  latter  evaded  the  issue,  saying  he  want- 
ed a  year 's  rest. 

About  this  time  Sullivan  returned  from  Aus- 
tralia, and  as  his  trip  had  not  turned  out  very 
successfully,  he  challenged  Slavin  and  Mitchell 
— who  were  in  this  country  at  the  time — and 
"that  pillow  pusher"  Corbett. 

Mitchell  and  Slavin  were  in  New  York. 
Mitchell  was  very  anxious  to  have  Slavin  meet 
Sullivan. 

He  went  to  Richard  K.  Fox  in  an  attempt  to 
get  him  to  back  Slavin. 

Billy  Madden  had  brought  Slavin  and  Mitch- 
ell to  this  country  and  arranged  the  match  with1 
Kilrain  for  Slavin.  Slavin  by  beating  Kil- 
rain  made  a  large  amount  of  money  for  himself 
and  Mitchell. 

Far  from  being  grateful,  he  and  Mitchell 
abandoned  Madden.  Madden  in  the  meantime 


THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  149 

had  gone  to  Mr.  Fox  and  told  him  the  facts  in 
regard  to  this  matter,  and  he  refused  to  give 
them  backing. 

Corbett  came  to  town  a  few  days  later  and 
telephoned  me,  asking  me  to  meet  him  at  the 
Coleman  House. 

The  first  thing  I  said  to  him  when  we  met 
was :  * '  Jim,  you  must  get  this  match. ' '  He  told 
me  Brady  was  willing  to  put  up  $2,500  of  the 
$10,000  necessary  as  a  stake,  but  would  not  put 
it  up  until  the  rest  was  promised.  I  said  to 
him:  "Nail  Sullivan  now.  Brady  must  make 
the  match.  I'll  put  up  a  thousand  myself  and 
find  $1,500  more.  There's  half  the  money.  Be- 
sides this,  I  think  Mr.  Edward  Kearney  will  put 
up  $1,250  and  Phil  Dwyer  that  much  more. 
There's  $7,500.  You  can  go  on  the  stage  and 
make  $2,500  more." 

'•     He  replied:  "Brady  won't  make  the  match 
unless  all  the  money  is  promised." 

We  left  the  Coleman  House  and  went  to  the 
[Hoffman  House.  After  stopping  there  a  few 


150    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

minutes  we  went  on  to  Koster  &  Bial's  concert 
hall  to  talk  matters  over. 

On  the  way  I  kept  insisting  that  he  should 
force  Billy  Brady  to  make  this  match. 

We  had  just  taken  our  seats  when  an  usher 
spoke  to  me,  saying  that  a  gentleman  in  an  op- 
posite box  wanted  to  see  me.  I  looked  over  and 
saw  it  was  Colonel  Frederick  McLewee.  I  went 
over  at  once,  taking  Jim  with  me.  After  intro- 
ducing Corbett  to  Colonel  McLewee,  he  asked 
me  what  I  was  doing  there. 

I  said:  "We  are  looking  for  money  to  bind  a 
match  with  Sullivan  for  Jim  here.  We  have 
got  $5,000  and  we  want  the  rest  of  the  money 
before  we  go  on  with  the  match.  Corbett  is  sure 
to  beat  Sullivan." 

"Well,  Mike,"  he  said,  "you've  always 
spoken  pretty  highly  of  this  young  fellow,"  and 
after  a  few  moments  added :  "  I  '11  find  $2,500  for 
you.  There's  $7,500." 

After  talking  a  few  minutes,  Colonel  Mc- 
Lewee, taking  a  fancy  to  Corbett,  said:  "Boys, 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  151 

I'll  find  the  other  $2,500.  Now  you  have  got 
your  $10,000.  Go  ahead  and  fight." 

Needless  to  say  both  Corbett  and  I  were  over- 
joyed, and  after  thanking  the  Colonel  we  left 
and  went  home  happy. 

Two  or  three  days  later  Brady  met  Charley 
Johnson,  Sullivan's  backer,  at  the  New  York 
World  office  and  made  arrangements  for  the 
match,  which  was  to  take  place  September  7th. 
It  was  then  about  the  middle  of  March. 

After  this  Corbett  went  on  the  road  with  his 
show  and  returned  to  New  York  about  the  mid- 
dle of  June  and  started  training  at  Asbury 
Park,  New  Jersey,  in  charge  of  Brady. 

A  short  time  after  this  Colonel  McLewee  sent 
for  me  from  Monmouth  Park,  where  his  racing 
stable  was  located,  and  told  me  that  on  account 
of  havicg  seen  Corbett  out  late  one  night,  a  vio- 
lation of  training  rules  and  a  breaking  of  Cor- 
bett's  promise  to  him,  he  didn't  feel  like  putting 
up  the  second  $2,500.  I  was  thunderstruck,  as 
money  was  not  so  easy  to  get  for  that  match. 


152    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I  argued  with  him,  telling  him  it  would  place 
me  in  a  fearful  position.  I  remained  overnight 
with  him  and  didn't  sleep  a  wink. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  the  Colonel 
asked  me  how  I  felt.  I  replied  I  had  not  slept 
and  that  I  was  worried. 

' 'Mike,"  he  said,  "I  wouldn't  go  back  on  you 
for  anything  in  the  world.  Corbett  doesn't  de- 
serve my  support,  but  if  you  can't  get  the  money 
anywhere  else  I'll  put  it  up  for  you;  not  for 
Corbett,  understand." 

I  telegraphed  Corbett  to  come  at  once  to  Mon- 
mouth  Park  and  meet  me  there.  He  arrived  in 
the  course  of  an  hour  and  I  told  him  that  he  had 
broken  his  word  to  Colonel  McLewee  and  me. 
He  started  to  make  excuses.  I  broke  in  on  them 
and  said: 

"Well,  Colonel  McLewee  won't  put  up  the 
money." 

"What?"  he  cried.   "What  will  we  do  now?" 

I  knew  he  was  a  high-strung,  nervous  fellow 
and  was  afraid  the  excitement  would  hurt  him, 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  153 

so  I  reassured  him,  saying:  ''Don't  worry,  Jim. 
I'll  get  the  money  all  right.  I'll  go  inside  the 
track  now  and  see  Phil  Dwyer  [the  stake- 
holder], but  regardless  of  what  he  says  you  can 
rely  on  me  to  get  the  money. ' ; 

He  waited  while  I  saw  Dwyer.  The  latter 
seemed  reluctant  to  put  up  anything  and  said 
that  he  would  see.  That  didn't  satisfy  me,  so 
I  left  him  and  returned  to  Corbett. 

Jim  walked  back  to  Asbury  Park  and  I  took 
the  train. 

After  taking  supper  with  Tn'm  I  returned  to 
the  city  and  went  at  once  to  the  Gilsey  House 
to  see  Al.  Smith. 

I  found  him  in  the  rotunda,  and  calling  him 
aside,  told  him  the  circumstances.  I  then  said : 
"Al.,  Phil  Dwyer  won't  find  that  money.  I've 
got  a  thousand  I  '11  put  up.  Can  you  let  me  have 
the  other  $1,500?" 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "I'd  like  to  "help  you  out, 
but  as  you  know  I've  managed  Sullivan  and 
been  on  the  road  with 'him.  Everybody  knows 


154    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I've  made  a  lot  of  money  through  my  connection 
with  him.  What  would  people  think  of  me  if 
I  backed  Corbett  against  him?" 

"AL,"  I  said,  "if  you  can  give  it  to  me  no- 
body will  be  the  wiser.  It  will  help  me  out. ' ' 

"Mike,"  he  declared,  "you  can't  afford  to 
lose  a  thousand  dollars." 

"I  won't  lose  it,  AL,"  I  replied.  "Jim  is  sure 
to  beat  John  L." 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  said :  '  *  Mike, 
I'll  find  you  the  $2,500  if  you  can't  get  it  from 
any  one  else,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  in 
this  match  for  the  reasons  I  've  given  you. ' ' 

I  went  out  and  telegraphed  Corbett  that  I  had 
the  money,  and  the  next  day  Mr.  Kearney  put 
up  $1,250  and  induced  Dwyer  to  do  the  same. 

On  Sunday  morning,  our  sleeper  and  exercis- 
ing car  were  detached  at  Charlotte,  North  Caro- 
lina, as  Corbett  wanted  to  go  down  by  easy 
stages,  so  as  to  get  more  road  work.  Billy 
Brady  procured  two  carriages  and  we  all  took  a 


DONOVAN    SIDE    STEPPING    LEFT    AND    PUTTING    RIGHT    TO 
SOLAR    PLEXUS 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  155 

ride  about  two  miles  out  of  the  town.  When  we 
got  out  that  distance,  Jim  jumped  out  of  his 
hack.  I  asked  him  what  he  was  going  to  do. 
"Why,  run  to  town,"  said  he.  I  told  him  that  he 
was  very  foolish  to  run  back  and  inhale  all  that 
dust,  at  the  same  time  pointing  at  the  clouds  of 
dust.  I  was  astonished,  and  told  him  it  would 
do  him  more  harm  than  good,  and  besides  it  was 
too  hot  a  day  to  run  so  far.  He  ought  to  run 
about  a  mile  and  get  into  the  carriage  and  ride 
through  the  town  to  the  car.  He  took  his  exer- 
cises with  Jim  Daly,  and  Delaney,  as  usual, 
stood  by  looking  wise,  until  the  time  of  the  rub- 
bing-down process  came.  Then  he  took  a  hand 
the  same  as  any  other  laborer  would.  That  be- 
ing finished,  a  party  of  gentlemen  waited  on 
Corbett  and  invited  him  and  his  party  to  the 
club,  which  was  made  up  of  the  best  people 
in  the  town.  I  did  not  go,  as  I  had  met 
two  young  men  who  knew  me  and  they  in- 
vited me  to  take  a  walk  around  the  vil- 
lage, which  I  did  and  enjoyed  it  very  much.  The 


156    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

evening  came.  I  was  walking  up  the  main  street 
with  my  friends  when  we  met  a  gentleman  by 
the  name  of  Chapman,  a  doctor.  He  was  in 
front  of  his  own  home  and  he  brought  out  chairs 
and  we  began  chatting.  He  was  very  interest- 
ing. I  soon  discovered  that  he  had  been  a  Con- 
federate soldier,  which,  of  course,  made  him 
much  more  interesting  to  me.  The  conversa- 
tion drifted  on  to  the  late  war,  and  I  can  assure 
the  reader  that  he  saw  service,  too.  While  we 
were  talking  one  of  the  newspaper  staff,  Mr. 
Langdon  Smith,  who  represented  the  World, 
came  by  and  called  me  aside,  saying:  "Mike, 
did  you  hear  the  news?  There  is  a  minister 
here,  named  So-and-so,  who  is  going  to  get  a 
warrant  for  Jim's  arrest  for  running  through 
the  street  in  a  sweater  on  the  Sabbath  day.  We 
are  going  to  be  booked  on  the  regular  train  at 
2  o'clock.  Don't  say  anything  about  it.  We 
will  give  the  minister  the  slip." 

I  promised  to  keep  quiet,  but  I  did  not  be- 
lieve the  story,  because  I  knew  the  Southern 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  157 

people  too  well.  After  lie  had  gone  I  sat  down 
and  began  chatting  again.  I  said:  "Dr.  Chap- 
man, can  I  take  you  into  my  confidence?"  know-, 
ing  if  a  Southerner  gives  his  word  it's  like  his 
bond.  "Why,  of  course  you  can,"  said  he.  I 
asked  him  if  he  knew  a  clergyman  in  the  town 
by  the  name  of  So-and-so.  "Why,  yes,  he  is 
my  pastor,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  I  am  a  dea- 
con of  his  church."  "Well,"  said  I,  "he  is  go- 
ing to  get  a  warrant  out  for  Corbett  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning,  for  breaking  the  Sabbath 
day,  and  running  through  the  village  with  a 
sweater  on. ' '  He  jumped  to  his  feet  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  and  sang  out  in  a  high  tone:  "It's 
a  confounded  lie.  That  man  would  no  more  do 
such  a  mean,  low  thing  than  commit  suicide.  He 
is  an  honorable  gentleman,  professor.  Don't 
believe  it."  I  said:  "Dr.  Chapman,  your  word 
goes  with  me." 

I  saw  in  an  instant  that  it  was  a  scheme  on 
Billy  Brady's  part  to  get  cheap  advertisement, 
which  proved  to  be  true.  I  went  down  to  the 


158    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

station  and  procured  paper  in  the  telegraph 
office  and  wrote  to  my  friend  Harry  Kehoe  at 
the  N.  Y.  A.  C.,  telling  him  of  the  outrageous 
insult  that  was  to  be  imposed  on  the  people  that 
treated  us  with  nothing  but  kindness.  As  I  was 
writing,  Billy  Brady  came  to  me  and  said: 
"Mike,  we  are  going  to  slip  out  of  this  town  at 
2  P.M.  Go  around  to  the  back  of  the  train 
and  get  on.  Don't  let  any  one  see  you." 
I  replied,  "I  will  get  on  just  as  I  got 
off.  Don't  mind  me.  I  can  take  care  of 
myself  anywhere."  We  left  at  the  time  ap- 
pointed, most  of  them  sneaking  around  as 
though  they  had  committed  some  crime.  The 
train  came  along  and  I  stepped  on.  Corbett  all 
this  time  was  in  bed.  The  next  morning  this 
outrageous  story  went  the  rounds  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Press.  We  went  on  about  75  miles  to  a 
little  town  in  South  Carolina.  We  went  to  a 
hotel,  Corbett  staying  in  bed  in  his  car.  We  had 
two  or  three  hours'  sleep.  I  got  up  and  had 
breakfast  and  took  a  walk  up  the  main  street 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  159 

and  looked  down  a  lane,  in  which  I  saw  a  queer- 
looking  old  stone  building  at  its  end.  I  walked 
up  to  the  gate  and  heard  a  sweet  voice  singing 
a  hymn.  I  looked  up  at  the  window,  which  I 
saw  had  bars  on  it.  A  man  appeared  and  said : 
'  *  Say,  boss,  have  you  any  tobacco? ' '  I  saw  that 
it  was  a  jail.  I  replied :  ' '  No,  but  I  have  some 
good  cigars  which  I  will  be  glad  to  give  you. 
How  am  I  to  pass  them  up ! "  l '  Oh,  boss, ' '  said 
he,  in  a  very  marked  Southern  accent,  "just 
leave  them  on  the  gate-post  and  the  jailer  will 
soon  be  here  and  give  them  to  me."  I  did  as  di- 
rected, putting  all  the  cigars  that  I  had  on 
the  post,  four  or  five,  and  was  sorry  that  I  did 
not  have  more.  All  this  time  the  singer  was 
still  going  on,  the  others  joining  in  the  chorus. 
I  inquired:  "Who  is  the  girl  singing  that 
hymn?" 

"Oh,  boss,"  he  said,  "she  is  the  nigger  girl 
that  is  going  to  be  hung  next  Friday." 

"Good  Lord,  how  can  she  be  so  happy  and 
going  to  be  hung?" 


160    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

"Oh,  those  niggers  don't  know  any  better," 
said  he. 

"What  is  she  going  to  be  hung  for?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"For  giving  a  baby  poison  that  she  was  nurse 
for." 

"How  old  is  she?"  I  asked. 

"Thirteen  years  old,  boss." 

"Good  heavens!  Are  they  going  to  hang  a 
child?" 

"Yes,  boss,"  he  said.  "There  is  a  petition  be- 
ing signed,  asking  Governor  Tillman  for  clem- 
ency. I  don't  think  that  the  old  Governor  will 
respite  her.  You  know  he  don't  like  bad  nig- 
gers, boss." 

I  bade  my  new-found  friend  good-by.  He  re- 
plied: "I  am  very  much  obliged,  boss.  What's 
your  name?" 

"Oh,  never  mind  my  name.  You  are  as  wel- 
come as  the  flowers  in  May.  I  am  only  sorry 
that  I  haven't  more  cigars  with  me  to  give  you." 

"Good-by,  boss,  and  good  luck." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  161 

I  felt  somehow  that  it  was  a  good  omen  that 
sent  me  that  way.  I  left  two  half  dollars  on  the 
gate-post  with  the  cigars. 


CHAPTER  X 

CORBETT  STAETS   FOB  THE  BATTLE  WITH   SULLIVAN 

CORBETT  and  his  party  left  New  York  on  Sep- 
tember 4th  for  New  Orleans,  where  the  fight  was 
to  take  place  "before  the  Olympic  Athletic  Club. 

I  joined  them  at  Washington,  where,  by  the 
way,  I  had  my  pocket  picked,  losing  a  pocket- 
book  containing  $75. 

The  party  consisted  of  'Jim,  Brady,  myself 
and  about  twelve  or  fifteen  of  Corbett's  friends. 
We  had  a  sleeper,  diner  and  a  baggage  car  fitted 
up  with  a  punching  bag  and  chest  weights. 

On  the  second  day  -out  Corbett,  Brady,  De- 
laney  and  T  were  having  dinner,  and  when  des- 
sert was  served  Corbett  took  apple  sauce  and 
cream.  He  ate  one  plate  and  asked  for  another. 
This  apple  sauce  had  been  made  by  Brady's 

169 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  163 

wife  a  couple  of  days  before  and,  of  course,  it 
was  not  fresh. 

I  knew  this  was  the  worst  thing  Corbett  could 
eat,  as  it  was  sure  to  disarrange  his  stomach,  so 
I  spoke  up,  saying:  "  Jim,  you  ought  .not  eat  any 
more  of  that." 

Corbett  was  exceedingly  nervous  and  irri- 
table as  the  result  of  his  hard  training  and  his 
natural  anxiety  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  fight. 

He  leaned  over  toward  me  and  snapped  out : 
"Why?  Why  shouldn't  I  eat  it?" 

As  I  didn't  want  to  irritate  him  further  I 
dropped  the  matter. 

Delaney  paid  no  attention  to  what  I  said  and 
gave  Corbett  another  liberal  portion. 

Shortly  after  dinner  Corbett  went  back  to  the 
exercising  car,  where  his  bed  was,  and  I  fol- 
lowed. 

I  found  him  sitting  on  his  bed,  but  could  not 
make  up  my  mind  as  to  what  would  be  the  most 
tactful  way  of  approaching  him.  I  walked  up 
and  down  the  car  several  times,  puffing  at  my 
cigar. 


164    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Finally  a  thought  struck  me  and  I  walked  up 
to  Corbett,  saying:  "Jim,  I'd  give  $10,000  to 
be  in  your  boots  this  minute. ' ' 

He  looked  quickly  and  snapped  out: 
(     "Why?" 

"Why?"  I  said.  "I'd  lick  Sullivan  without 
as  much  as  a  black  eye.  Then  I'd  go  on  the 
road  and  make  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  a 
year." 

This  interested  him,  as  it  was,  of  course,  the 
subject  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

I  sat  down  beside  him  on  the  bed  and  com- 
menced to  tell  him  what  a  wreck  Sullivan  was ; 
that  he  hadn't  been  able  to  train  on  account  of 
the  rheumatism  in  his  knees  and  feet.  He  knew 
I  was  telling  the  truth,  as  I  had  had  weekly  re- 
ports from  the  Sullivan  training  camp  at  Canoe 
Place  Inn,  Long  Island. 

"Why,  Jim,"  I  said,  "he  is  so  slow  he  can't 
get  out  of  his  own  way.  His  stomach  muscles 
are  all  gone,  and  he  is  flabby.  You  can  lick  him 
in  a  punch." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  165 

This  quieted  him  down  and  I  told  him  that  he 
must  not  eat  any  more  such  stuff  as  the  apple 
sauce  he  had  at  dinner.  He  agreed  that  I  was 
right. 

There  was  a  pair  of  gloves  lying  in  a  satchel 
on  the  floor.  Jim  picked  them  up  and  went  in  to 
the  front  of  the  car,  calling  to  me  to  accompany 
him.  I  followed,  wondering  what  fancy  had 
struck  him. 

He  put  on  the  gloves  and  turned  around,  mak- 
ing two  or  three  feints  at  my  jaw  and  body  with 
his  left.  I  stood  looking  at  him  with  my  hands 
at  my  side. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"I  want  you  to  do  the  first  thing  Sullivan  will 
do, "he  said. 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  and  did,  as  I  had 
done  scores  of  times  before,  showing  him  how 
Sullivan  would  slap  his  thigh  several  times  with 
his  left  hand  in  order  to  get  started,  then  try  to 
break  down  his  guard  or  disconcert  him  with  his 
strong  chopping  left;  then  swing  his  right  for 


166    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

the  neck  and  jaw,  using  his  arm  as  though  it  was 
a  club. 

I  then  warned  him  to  look  out  for  Sullivan's 
right-arm  swing  in  the  clinches  and  breakaways. 

Corbett  said:  "Why,  he  can't  hit  me  in  the 
clinches  under  the  Marquis  of  Queensberry 
rules." 

"Never  mind  about  the  rules,"  I  said.  "If 
Sullivan  gets  a  chance  to  hit  you  in  a  clinch  he'll 
do  it,  and  if  he  lands  that  right  swing  on  your 
neck  and  puts  you  out  nobody  will  decide 
against  him.  That's  the  only  blow  he  can  hit 
you  and  he  can't  land  that  if  you  keep  your 
head." 

Corbett  pulled  off  his  gloves,  saying  as  he  did 
so:  "If  that's  all  he  can  do,  he'll  never  hit  me." 

His  confidence  seemed  to  have  returned. 

We  went  back  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed 
and  after  a  moment  he  asked  me  if  a  glass  of 
wine  would  hurt  him.  I  knew  it  wouldn't,  as 
it  would  quiet  his  nerves  and  help  him  to  sleep,, 
the  thing  he  most  needed,  so  I  told  him  no,  add- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  167 

ing  that  a  pint  of  champagne,  sipped  slowly, 
would  do  him  good. 

Corbett  called  for  Delaney  and  told  him  to 
give  him  a  glass  of  wine.  Delaney  went  to  the 
ice-box  and  got  out  a  pint,  and  after  pouring  out 
a  glass  for  Corbett  put  it  back.  After  Corbett 
had  finished  sipping  it  he  asked  me  if  I  thought 
another  glass  would  hurt  him.  I  told  him  no,  to 
drink  the  rest  of  the  pint.  He  called  to  Delaney 
to  give  him  the  bottle. 

Delaney  replied : ' 'No,  no,  Jim ;  you  ought  not 
drink  any  more." 

Corbett  shouted:  "Give  me  that  bottle.  I 
know  what's  good  for  me." 

Delaney  handed  it  over. 

In  a  few  minutes  Delaney  prepared  Jim  for 
bed. 

I  went  to  my  berth  and  lay  there,  rolling  and 
tossing  for  about  three  hours,  unable  to  sleep. 
I  was  fearful  as  to  the  effects  of  the  apple  sauce 
on  Corbett  in  conjunction  with  his  nervousness, 
knowing  that  if  he  lost  I  couldn't  show  my  face 


168    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

around  the  New  York  Athletic  Club  where  I  had 
praised  Corbett.  In  addition  to  this  I  had  in- 
duced three  members  of  the  club  to  subscribe  to 
the  stake.  They  were  Colonel  McLewee,  Ed- 
ward Kearney,  Jr.,  and  his  father.  For  Jim  to 
lose  this  fight  spelled  ruination  for  me. 

About  three  o  'clock  in  the  morning  I  rose  and 
went  into  the  other  car  to  smoke,  in  an  effort 
to  quiet  my  nerves.  I  got  into  conversation  with 
a  gentleman  who  was  standing  at  the  door.  He 
was  a  prominent  business  man  in  New  Orleans 
and  a  great  admirer  of  Sullivan.  After  we  had 
been  there  a  few  minutes  who  should  appear  but 
Corbett. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  I  asked  him. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "you  were  right;  that • 

apple  sauce  has  made  me  sick.  I've  just  taken 
some  blackberry  brandy." 

"Well,  you  go  back  to  bed  now  and  if  you 
don't  feel  better  let  me  know  and  I'll  fix  you 
up." 

After  he  had  left  I  turned  to  the  gentleman 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  169 

and  said:  "You  see  what  a  big  boy  he  really  is. 
He  knows  no  better  than  to  talk  like  that  before 
strangers.  I  hope  you  won't  repeat  what 
you've  heard." 

He  assured  me  he  would  not,  but  Charley 
'Johnson  heard  of  it  and  offered  to  send  a  doctor 
to  Corbett's  quarters.  We  kept  this  from  Cor- 
bett. 

[When  we  reached  New  Orleans  we  were  met 
by  a  delegation  from  the  Southern  Athletic  Club 
and  Corbett  and  party  drove  to  the  club,  which 
they  made  their  headquarters  during  their  stay 
in  New  Orleans. 

I  went  out  to  the  home  of  my  old  friend's  son, 
James  J.  Kendrick,  who  met  me.  I  needed 
sleep,  and  knew  I  would  not  get  it  if  I  went  to 
the  club  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd. 

That  afternoon  I  went  to  the  house  where 
Corbett  was  staying.  He  was  not  there,  hav- 
ing gone  out  for  a  drive. 

I  met  there  Dinny  Dillon,  an  old  San  Fran- 
cisco friend  of  Corbett's,  who  came  down  from 


170    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

New  York  with  us.  I  told  him  I  thought  Brady 
and  Delaney  were  misleading  Corbett  and  said 
it  was  a  shame. 

"You  know,  Dinny,"  I  said,  "my  only  inter- 
est is  to  see  Jim  win.  My  friends  have  backed 
him,  and  I've  got  more  to  lose  than  any  man  in 
the  party." 

He  told  me  he  knew  that  was  true,  but  that 
he  couldn't  help  matters  any. 

After  leaving  him  I  went  down  to  the  club 
and  shook  hands  with  a  number  of  my  old 
friends,  including  Mr.  Edward  Merritt,  whom  I 
have  mentioned  before  as  referee  of  the  Corbett- 
Kilrain  fight. 

From  the  club  I  went  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel, 
where  I  met  George  Siler,  the  famous  referee, 
who  was  an  old  friend  of  mine. 

He  took  me  aside  and  said:  "Mike,  you  be 
here  to-morrow  morning  about  nine  or  ten 
o  'clock  and  I  may  have  something  to  tell  you. ' ' 

I  was  there  on  time  the  next  morning  and 
saw  Siler  for  a  moment.  He  asked  me  to  wait 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  171 

until  he  came  back.  I  sat  smoking  and  chatting 
with  a  crowd  of  my  old  friends  who  were  coming 
in  right  along. 

About  1  o'clock  Siler  rushed  in  and  motioned 
to  me. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "John  L.  has  tried  to  get 
drunk." 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  demanded. 

"A  friend  of  mine  from  Chicago,  the  editor 
of  an  evening  paper  here,  has  every  bellboy  in 
the  St.  Charles  Hotel  [where  Sullivan  was  stay- 
ing] paid  to  give  him  information  about  Sulli- 
van. They  have  just  had  a  big  row  in  his 
room." 

I  jumped  into  a  carriage  and  started  for  Cor- 
bett's  quarters,  taking  with  me  John  Donaldson, 
the  famous  second,  who  had  trained  and  sec- 
onded Jim  against  Jackson. 

Oh  the  way  out  I  kept  thinking  about  poor 
John  L.  I  knew  he  was  going  to  be  beaten  and 
felt  sure  he  realized  what  a  physical  wreck  he 
was.  Under  the  circumstances,  can  any  one 
blame  him  for  turning  to  drink  I 


172    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Donaldson  said:  ''Mike,  I'd  like  to  second 
Corbett  to-night." 

"John,"  I  said,  "he's  gotten  away  from  nie. 
Delaney  and  Brady  have  him  under  their  con- 
trol. I'm  going  to  give  him  this  information, 
though." 

;When  we  reached  the  house  I  went  in,  Donald* 
son  remaining  outside. 

I  found  Corbett  reading  some  telegrams. 

"Hello,  Jim!"  I  said.    "How  do  you  feel!" 

He  turned  on  me  and  asked  in  a  surly  man- 
ner: "What's  the  matter  with  you?  Are  you 
crazy!" 

I  knew  he  was  referring  to  my  remarks  of  the 
day  before  to  Dinny  Dillon. 
,     I  was  tempted  to  retort,  but  checked  myself. 

"Jim,  I  didn't  come  here  to  quarrel  with  you. 
I  came  to  bring  you  information,"  I  said 
quickly,  in  order  to  soothe  him. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  Sullivan  would  start  to 
'drink  at  the  eleventh  hour  when  he  realized  he 
would  be  beaten!" 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  173 

"Yes!"  he  said,  jumping  up. 

I  then  repeated  to  him  the  story  as  Siler  had 
told  it  to  me.  This  quieted  him  at  once,  and  he 
sat  down. 

"But  remember,  Jim,"  I  said,  "Sullivan  will 
be  all  right  when  he  goes  into  the  ring. ' '  Then 
I  continued:  "Jim,  I've  never  asked  you  for  a 
favor  yet,  have  I?"  He  shook  his  head. 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded. 

"I  want  you  to  grant  it  before  I  ask  it." 

"It's  granted,  Mike,"  he  said. 

I  said:  "I  want  John  Donaldson  to  second 
you.  He'll  know  what  to  do  in  case  anything 
happens.  He 's  seconded  you  before  and  knows 
how  to  handle  you." 

"What  about  Daly?"  he  asked. 

"Let  him  step  aside,"  I  said.  "This  is  no 
time  for  trifling.  Donaldson  is  a  man  of  ex- 
perience and  can  help  you." 

' '  All  right, ' '  he  said.    '  *  Where  is  John  ?" 

I  called  Donaldson  in  and  told  him  what  had 
happened.  He  and  Corbett  shook  hands. 


174    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Jim  and  I  talked  for  a  while.  Then  he  went 
in  to  lie  down  for  a  few  minutes.  I  went  in  and 
sat  down  beside  his  bed. 

1  'Now,  Jim,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  to  say  a  few 
more  words  to  you  about  the  fight.  Remember 
all  I've  told  you  about  him.  Fight  him  care- 
fully a  couple  of  rounds  until  you  see  for  your- 
self that  he's  just  as  I've  told  you.  Then  use 
your  judgment.  I'll  see  you  to-night." 

I  then  went  to  the  Southern  Athletic  Club, 
where  Mr.  Walmsley  invited  me  to  go  down  to 
the  fight  in  one  of  his  carriages. 

We  left  for  the  arena. 

When  we  reached  the  Olympic  Club  I  went  at 
once  to  Corbett's  dressing-rooms.  After  I 
shook  hands  with  him  I  said:  "Jim,  take  off 
your  shoes  and  lie  down  on  the  lounge  and  get 
some  rest.  The  fight  won't  come  off  for  an 
hour  or  so." 

He  started  to  do  as  I  had  told  him.  I  turned 
away  and  started  to  talk  to  Gene  Comisky,  the 
representative  of  the  New  York  Evening  Tele- 
gram, a  pupil  of  mine. 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  175 

While  Corbett  was  taking  off  his  shoes  De- 
laney  walked  up  to  him  (so  I  was  afterward 
told  by  Jim  Daly)  and  said:  "I  don't  want 
Donovan  to  go  in  the  ring  with  you  to-night. ' ' 

I  saw  Corbett  slam  his  foot  down  on  the  floor 
and  heard  him  say:  "He's  my  friend,  and  he'll 
go  in  the  ring,  understand  that!" 

I  turned  round  and  said  to  Delaney :  "What's 
the  matter  with  you?  What  are  you  exciting 
him  for?" 

Delaney  walked  away  without  saying  any- 
thing. 

I  turned  to  Corbett  and  said:  "Jim,  take  your 
shoes  off,  and  lie  down."  He  did  so. 

In  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  started 
for  the  ring. 

As  we  passed  through  the  crowd  and  walked 
around  to  our  corner,  Corbett  received  a  cheer. 
I  remained  outside  the  ropes  in  the  outer  ring. 

In  about  five  minutes  Sullivan  entered  and 
received  a  tremendous  ovation. 

I  had  told  Jim  that  when  Sullivan  entered  the 


176    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

ring  he  would  glare  and  scowl  in  an  effort  to 
intimidate  him.  My  prediction  was  correct. 

I  called  Jim's  attention  to  Sullivan's  scowls 
and  he  looked  up  for  the  first  time.  His  eyes 
met  Sullivan's  and  he  looked  up  at  me  and 
laughed  loudly. 

Sullivan's  seconds  busied  themselves  with 
him. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  stripped 
since  the  Kilrain  fight,  and  I  can  truthfully  say 
I  never  saw  a  man  enter  the  ring  in  such  bad 
condition.  His  massive  shoulders  had  shrunken. 
His  arms  were  flabby  and  looked  weak.  His 
stomach  was  covered  with  layers  of  fat.  His 
eyes  were  heavy  and  swollen  as  the  result  of 
dissipation. 

I  believe  Sullivan  realized  his  Waterloo  had 
come. 

I  said  to  Corbett:  ''Look  at  him,  Jim.  What 
did  I  tell  you?  You  can  lick  him  in  a  punch. 
Don't  mind  his  head.  Punish  his  body." 

I  told  Corbett  that  when  he  shook  hands  with 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  177 

Sullivan  in  the  middle  of  the  ring  the  latter 
would  try  to  crunch  his  fingers  and  throw  his 
arm  aside,  in  order  to  impress  the  crowd.  I  had 
warned  him  to  get  a  good  grip  on  John  L.'s 
hand  and  hold  fast. 

Sullivan  did  try  to  throw  Jim's  hand  aside, 
but  Jim  hung  on  and  laughed  at  him.  John  was 
taken  aback,  as  his  former  opponents  had  been 
scared  half  to  death  before  the  fight. 

Corbett  was  the  first  exception  to  the  rule. 
He  was  as  gay  as  a  dancing  master  as  he 
skipped  away,  and  he  turned  and  looked  back 
over  his  shoulder,  grinning  at  Sullivan  and  mak- 
ing some  contemptuous  remark. 

He  was  the  first  man  who  had  ever  dared  to 
treat  the  mighty  John  L.  in  this  summary 
fashion,  and  the  Big  Fellow  was  surprised.  Al- 
though people  generally  don't  know  it,  the  clash! 
of  minds  has  as  much  to  do  with  winning  fights 
as  the  crash  of  fists.  Corbett  kept  up  the 
comedy  after  returning  to  his  corner,  pointing 
at  Sullivan  and  laughing  at  him. 


178    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Time  was  called  by  John  Duffy,  the  referee. 

Both  men  stepped  briskly  to  the  center  of  the 
ring.  Sullivan  slapped  his  left  hand  on  his 
thigh  several  times,  chopped  with  his  left  and 
then  swung  his  right.  Corbett  skipped  away 
and  avoided  the  rush  easily. 

Again  Sullivan  rushed  and  Corbett  side- 
stepped, jumping  aside  as  lively  as  a  cricket. 
Sullivan  kept  trying  to  get  within  hitting  dis- 
tance of  Jim,  but  the  latter  was  too  elusive. 

The  second  round  was  a  repetition  of  the 
first,  Sullivan  rushing  and  Corbett  avoiding  him 
easily. 

In  the  third  round  John  started  with  a  rush 
and  Corbett  side-stepped,  swinging  his  left  like 
lightning  to  Sullivan's  nose  as  he  did  so.  The 
blood  spurted  from  John  L.'s  nose  like  a  crim- 
son fountain.  It  was  the  first  blow  Corbett  had 
landed,  but  it  was  a  telling  one. 

Corbett  jabbed  John  L.  at  will  on  the  nose 
and  jaw  for  the  rest  of  the  round. 

Sullivan  seemed  all  at  sea  and  unable  to 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW}  179 

guard,  and  when  he  returned  to  his  corner  he 
was  in  a  most  dilapidated  condition,  his  face, 
arms  and  chest  being  covered  with  blood. 

When  Corbett  returned  to  his  corner  he  said 
to  me, ' '  Old  man,  you  're  right, ' '  meaning  I  had 
been  right  when  I  told  him  how  John  L.  would 
fight. 

I  advised  Corbett  to  punch  Sullivan  in  the 
stomach  for  the  next  couple  of  rounds,  which 
would  have  finished  him,  but,  to  my  surprise,  he 
jumped  around  like  a  grasshopper  through  the 
fourth,  fifth  and  sixth  rounds,  allowing  Sullivan 
to  recover  to  some  extent  from  the  blows  he  had 
received  in  the  third  round,  although  he  was  still 
bleeding  profusely. 

When  he  came  to  his  corner  I  said  to  him: 
"Jim,  don't  you  see  he's  recovering?  Go  in 
close  to  him.  He  can't  hit  you." 

When  the  next  round,  the  seventh,  opened,  he 
walked  right  up  to  Sullivan,  and  as  John  L. 
drew  up  his  left  to  chop  it  down  on  Corbett 's 
guard,  Jim  sunk  his  right  and  left  into  his  op- 


180    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

ponent's  body  several  times,  causing  him  to 
double  up  like  a  jack-knife  with  agony.  These 
blows  were  the  result  of  the  training  I  had 
given  him  at  the  New  York  Athletic  Club  the 
first  time  he  came  to  New  York. 

I  shouted:  "Now  is  your  chance,  Jim,  finish 
him." 

Delaney,  however,  called  out:  "Look  out  for 
his  right,  Jim!  Look  out  for  his  right !"  This 
stopped  Corbett,  who  in  reality  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  the  now  crippled  and  helpless  Sulli- 
van. 


JAMES    J.    CORBETT— 1892 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  FALL  OP  JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN 

INSTEAD  of  goii  ^  in  and  finishing  his  man, 
Corbett  started  a  series  of  feints  which  took 
Mm  about  ten  seconds.  Sullivan  recovered 
somewhat  in  the  meantime,  but  was  very  weak 
when  he  reached  his  corner. 

I  again  urged  Corbett  to  go  in  and  finish  him. 
Sullivan  was  all  in  and  couldn't  hurt  him. 

Sullivan  came  up  for  the  eighth  round  puffing 
and  weak  from  loss  of  blood.  He  was  so  weak 
he  could  hardly  raise  his  arms. 

In  spite  of  this  Corbett  still  pursued  his  hop- 
ping tactics,  jumping  away  from  John  L.'s 
rushes  and  stabbing  him  occasionally  with  a 
straight  left. 

Sullivan  was  getting  weaker  and  weaker  from 

181 


182    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

his  own  exertions,  and  in  the  fourteenth  round 
Jirn  hit  him  twice  on  the  nose  in  rapid  succes- 
sion. 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  John's  unavailing  efforts 
to  raise  his  guard.  Blood  was  streaming  from 
his  nose  in  torrents,  but  he  was  game. 

"That  was  a  good  one,  Jim,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing for  the  first  time  during  the  fight. 

"Here's  a  better  one,"  Corbett  replied  sav- 
agely, and  stepping  in  close  planted  several 
hard  blows  on  John 's  mouth  and  jaws. 

Although  I,  of  course,  wanted  to  see  Corbett 
win,  I  felt  very  sorry  for  poor  John  L.,  for  he 
was  in  a  pitiable  condition. 

About  the  sixteenth  round  Sullivan  made  a 
desperate  effort  to  reach  Corbett.  The  latter, 
however,  would  skip  away  like  a  dancing  mas- 
ter. It  was  more  like  a  game  of  tag  than 
a  fight.  Sullivan  became  furious  and  rushed  at 
Corbett  like  a  bull,  trying  to  strike  him  with  his 
body,  his  arms  being  so  tired  he  could  not  lift 
them.  Sullivan  ran  up  against  the  ropes,  which 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  183 

shook  him  up  fearfully.  As  he  bounded  back  he 
caught  sight  of  Corbett  and  rushed  at  him 
again,  chasing  Jim  around  the  ring.  He  caught 
him  in  a  corner  and  swung  his  right.  Corbett 
dodged,  but  was  disconcerted;  then  he  side- 
stepped and  John  crashed  against  "the  ropes 
again.  Then  the  gong  sounded. 

It  made  me  mad  to  see  poor  John  L.  flounder- 
ing around  the  ring  absolutely  helpless,  and 
when  Corbett  returned  to  his  corner  I  said  to 
him : l '  What 's  the  matter  with  you,  Jim ?  Don 't 
you  see  he's  helpless?  Why  don't  you  get  it 
over  and  finish  him?" 

As  Corbett  left  his  corner  I  said  to  him: 

"He  can't  hit  hard  enough  to  dent  a  pound 
of  butter." 

Poor  John  must  have  realized  that  he 
couldn't  win,  for  in  the  next  round  he  rushed 
at  Corbett  with  his  arms  down  and  his  chin 
stuck  out,  inviting  a  knockout.  He  would  not 
quit,  but  wanted  to  be  knocked  out  and  have  the 
thing  over. 


184    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

During  the  eighteenth,  nineteenth  and  twen- 
tieth rounds  I  kept  begging  Corbett  to  finish 
him.  He  replied : ' '  I  will  pretty  soon, ' '  but  kept 
up  his  dancing  and  dodging  tactics. 

In  the  twenty-first  round,  however,  he  rushed 
as  soon  as  the  gong  rang.  He  met  Sullivan  in 
the  latter 's  corner,  where  he  stood  flat-footed, 
too  weak  to  raise  his  guard.  Corbett  feinted 
and  swung  his  right  to  Sullivan's  jaw.  John 
fell  to  his  knees,  but  with  a  determined  effort 
slowly  raised  himself  to  his  feet.  Crash!  went 
Corbett 's  right  and  left  against  his  jaw.  Sulli- 
van fell  forward,  his  face  and  chest  hitting  the 
floor.  He  made  an  effort  to  rise.  It  was  use- 
less. 

John  L.  rolled  over  on  his  right  side  and  was 
counted  out. 

The  house  was  as  still  as  death. 

John  L.  Sullivan,  the  people's  idol,  had  been 
beaten. 

Charley  Johnson,  Jack  McAuliffe  and  the 
other  seconds  picked  up  poor  Sullivan  and  car- 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  185 

ried  him  to  his  corner.  There  they  put  him 
down  on  the  small,  yellow  kitchen  chair  he  had 
sat  in  between  the  rounds.  John  was  gone — 
not  knocked  out,  but  so  exhausted  that  he  could 
neither  move  nor  think.  As  the  seconds  worked 
over  him  with  ammonia  at  his  nostrils  and 
pieces  of  ice  on  his  head  and  at  the  back  of 
his  neck  he  began  to  come  back  a  little.  The  mo- 
ment life  stirred  in  him  he  tried  to  get  up  on 
his  feet.  Johnson  and  McAuliffe  pushed  him 
back,  fearing  that  he  was  trying  to  attack  Cor- 
bett.  But  John  could  not  be  stopped.  He  was 
hardly  more  than  half  conscious  when  he  made 
a  great  effort.  I  can  see  him  now,  his  eyes 
dazed  and  half  closed,  throwing  back  two  or 
three  strong  men  with  one  sweep  of  his  big 
right  arm.  Then  he  got  up  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment swaying  from  side  to  side.  He  paid  no  at- 
tention to  Corbett.  There  was  something  else 
on  his  mind.  Dazed  as  he  was  by  the  punish- 
ment he  had  undergone,  there  was  still  one  idea 
that  he  had  to  express.  His  knees  bent  under 


186    THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

him  as  he  tottered  across  the  battlefield.  On 
he  went  until  he  stumbled  against  the  ropes  on 
the  other  side.  He  raised  his  left  hand  and  ran 
it  along  the  top  rope  until  it  struck  a  post.  He 
patted  the  post  a  few  times,  then  held  up  his 
right  hand.  The  cheering  and  applauding 
stopped  instantly.  The  house  was  as  still  as 
the  stars  shining  down  on  us  from  the  black 
sky. 

' l  Gentlemen, "  said  Sullivan,  his  voice  still 
thick  and  weak,  "gentlemen,  I  have  nothing  at 
all  to  say.  All  I  have  to  say  is  that  I  came  into 
the  ring  once  too  often — and  if  I  had  to  get 
licked  I'm  glad  I  was  licked  by  an  American.  I 
remain  your  warm  and  personal  friend,  John 
L.  Sullivan." 

There  was  many  a  good,  strong  man  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  as  those  simple  words  were 
uttered.  Here  was  the  man  who  had  stood  for 
twelve  years  the  acknowledged  physical  king 
of  the  human  race.  In  one  brief  battle  his  king- 
dom was  swept  away  from  him,  but  he  took  his 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  187 

defeat  like  a  man.    There  was  no  whining,  no 
excuse,  no  begging  for  another  chance. 

In  defeat  as  well  as  in  the  hour  of  triumph, 
John  L.  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  all  the 
rest.  He  was  on  the  level  when  he  was  up  and 
he  was  on  the  level  when  he  was  down.  It  will 
be  many  years  before  another  champion  stands 
as  close  to  the  hearts  of  the  people  as  did  hon- 
est, brave  John  L.  Sullivan. 

Before  the  fight  began  a  reporter  for  the  New 
York  Herald  read  a  cablegram  from  Charley 
Mitchell,  challenging  the  winner  for  the  cham- 
pionship of  the  world. 

The  championship  of  the  world!  Few  people 
realize  the  meaning  of  that  title. 

It  means  that  the  holder  stands  as  the  ac- 
knowledged physical  superior  of  any  living 
man ;  an  acknowledgment  granted  to  the  holder 
of  no  other  title. 

After  this  incident  Corbett  and  his  party  re- 
turned to  the  dressing-room,  locking  the  door 
to  keep  out  the  crowd  of  people  who  wanted  to 
get  in  to  congratulate  Jim. 


188    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

There  was  a  great  commotion  outside,  and 
though  we  heard  some  one  pounding  on  the 
door,  we  paid  no  attention. 

Suddenly  a  head  appeared  through  the  tran- 
som. It  was  Bob  Fitzsimmons,  who  was  at  that 
time  middleweight  champion. 

Sticking  his  arm  through  the  transom  he  held 
out  a  telegram,  singing  out  as  though  he  were 
the  bearer  of  good  news  to  Corbett:  "Jim,  Jim, 
here's  a  telegram  from  home." 

Corbett  looked  up,  and  seeing  who  it  was  said 
to  me :  ' '  Take  the  message  from  him,  Mike.  I 
wouldn't  speak  to  that  sucker." 

Fitzsimmons  overheard  the  remark  and 
looked  savagely  at  Corbett,  dropped  the  mes- 
sage on  the  floor  and  disappeared. 

I  rebuked  Corbett,  saying :  * '  You  should  be  so 
grateful  to-night  for  your  victory  that  you 
should  make  friends  with  every  one,  even  Sulli- 
van," and  added  that  Fitzsimmons  was  a  dan- 
gerous enemy. 

He  said:  "I  didn't  mean  it,  Mike;  but  I  don't 
like  him." 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  189 

I  told  him  he  ought  to  apologize,  but  he  never 
did. 

After  leaving  the  scene  of  the  fight  we  went 
to  the  Southern  Athletic  Club,  where  we  were 
entertained  by  Mr.  Walmsley  for  an  hour  or 
two. 

Fitzsimmons  left  the  Olympic  Club  with 
James  Kendrick. 

He  spoke  about  the  incident  of  the  telegram, 
saying,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  would 
lick  Corbett  if  it  took  him  a  lifetime. 
1  True  enough  he  did,  for  on  St.  Patrick's  Day, 
1897,  Jim  Corbett  lost  the  championship  of  the 
world  to  Fitzsimmons  at  Carson  City,  Nevada, 
after  fourteen  rounds  of  hard  fighting. 

I  spent  the  night  and  next  day  with  Mr.  Ken- 
drick, and  early  the  following  morning  I  left 
for  New  York  with  Corbett  and  his  party. 

On  the  way  back  I  was  sitting  beside  Corbett 
in  the  sleeper  and  he  said  to  me:  "Mike,  I  am 
going  to  send  $5,000  home  to  my  folks  as  soon  as 
I  get  back  to  New  York.  That  will  enable  them 
to  pay  off  a  mortgage." 


190    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I  told  him  that  was  the  right  thing  to  do  and 
advised  him  to  consult  Mr.  Kearney  about  in- 
vesting some  money  in  Bronx  real  estate,  tell- 
ing him  that  our.friend  was  well  informed  as  to 
conditions  there. 

Our  talk  drifted  to  fighting  and  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  going  to  do  about  Mitchell's  chal- 
lenge. He  replied  that  he  had  not  made  up  his 
mind.  I  said:  "Well,  Jackson  is  here  and  you 
know  better  than  I  can  tell  you  what  he  is.  Joe 
Goddard  told  me  he  was  going  after  you.  He 
is  a  hard  nut  to  crack.  Mitchell  is  only  a  mid- 
dleweight at  best  and  not  as  good  as  he  was. 
You  'd  better  take  him  on  first. ' ' 

Billy  Brady  came  into  the  compartment  just 
then  and  Jim  said:  "Billy,  we  have  been  talk- 
ing about  what's  best  to  do,  and  Mike  thinks  I'd 
better  take  Mitchell  on  next." 

"No,  no,"  said  Brady,  "don't  make  any 
matches  now.  You  want  to  go  on  the  road  and 
make  some  money." 

"Why  can't  I  go  on  the  road  after  the  match 
is  made  f ' '  Corbett  demanded. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  191 

Brady  remonstrated  with,  him  and  they  got 
to  arguing  the  matter,  and  I  left,  saying  as  I  did 
so  to  Corbett:  "Jim,  you  are  the  only  one  in 
this  party  I  have  any  interest  in.  That  is  my 
advice  to  you,  and  I  have  never  yet  given  you 
bad  advice. ' ' 

Corbett  gave  a  show  in  Birmingham,  Ala- 
bama, to  a  crowded  house.  The  next  morning 
we  started  for  Atlanta,  and  about  fifteen  miles 
out  of  Birmingham  we  stopped  and  had  some 
pictures  taken  which  the  railroad  company  used 
for  advertising  purposes,  hauling  us  free  in  re- 
turn. 

Corbett  received  an  ovation  at  Atlanta,  fully 
ten  thousand  people  being  at  the  station  to  meet 
him. 

As  I  was  sending  a  telegram  to  my  wife,  de- 
scribing Corbett 's  reception,  a  man  came  up 
and,  looking  at  me,  said :  "Here  he  is  now,"  and 
turning  to  Colonel  John  Y.  Blake,  afterward 
one  of  the  Boer  War  heroes,  said:  "Here  is  the 
man  who  licked  Sullivan," 


192    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

I  thought  he  had  made  a  mistake  and  turned 
to  him,  saying:  "No,  Jim  Corbett  licked  Sulli- 
van." 

"  "Oh,"  I  know  you,  Mike,"  he  said.     "You 
made  him  do  it." 

These  gentlemen  invited  me  to  lunch,  and  af- 
ter we  had  finished,  asked  me  what  I  wanted  to 
see. 

I  replied  that  I  would  like  to  go  out  to  the  old 
battleground  and  see  the  spot  where  General 
McPherson  was  killed.  They  were  agreeable, 
and  we  took  a  car  out  there.  The  gentleman 
who  had  first  addressed  me  and  whose  name  I 
have  forgotten,  told  us  some  very  amusing  stor- 
ies of  "Tennessee"  Jackson,  the  Confederate 
cavalry  leader.  One  of  his  stories  was  about 
the  capture  of  a  Union  paymaster  who  had  in 
his  possession  two  haversacks  full  of  green- 
backs, amounting  to  over  $200,000,  he  being 
then  on  his  way  to  pay  the  troops.  He  said 
they  paid  no  attention  to  the  greenbacks,  as  they 
thought  when  the  war  was  over  the  Union  cur- 


THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  193 

rency  would  be  worthless.  How  they  could  be- 
lieve they  were  going  to  win  after  Gettysburg 
and  the  fall  of  Vicksburg  is  more  than  I  can 
understand,  but  they  did  up  to  the  very  last. 

However,  an  Irish  private  in  Jackson's  bri- 
gade kept  the  money  and  carried  it  with  him 
all  through  the  campaign  in  spite  of  the  jibes 
and  jeers  of  his  comrades. 

As  every  one  knows,  Sherman  burned  Atlan- 
ta as  a  military  necessity  on  his  way  to  the  sea. 

When  the  war  was  over  the  then  wealthy 
Irishman  went  to  Memphis,  where  he  fitted  up  a 
wagon  train  with  supplies  of  every  description 
and  drove  it  by  slow  stages  to  Atlanta,  a  dis- 
tance of  over  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 
When  he  arrived  there  he  opened  a  store  in  a 
big  oblong  shanty  and  gave  credit  to  his  old 
comrades  and  to  all  of  the  responsible  people 
in  the  vicinity.  He  furnished  them  with  food, 
farming  implements,  mules,  and  in  fact  every- 
thing necessary  for  them  to  start  life  anew. 

In  the  end  all  of  these  men  repaid  him,  and 
he  died  a  wealthy  man. 


194    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

From  Atlanta  we  went  to  Charlotte,  North 
Carolina,  reaching  there  about  nine  o'clock  in 
the  evening.  There  were  hundreds  of  people  on 
the  station  platform  calling  for  Corbett.  When 
Corbett  appeared  on  the  back  platform  of  our 
car  they  cheered  him  and  then  called  for  Brady, 
booing  and  hissing  as  they  did  so. 

Four  gentlemen  joined  us  at  Charlotte.  One 
of  them,  whom  I  had  met  before,  said  to  me: 
"Professor,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  respect  we 
have  for  you  and  Corbett  we  would  have  tarred 
and  feathered  Brady  for  the  story  he  circulated 
about  our  minister,  who  is  one  of  the  finest  men 
in  our  town." 

WTien  we  reached  Washington  we  drove 
around  the  city,  Corbett  never  having  seen  the 
capital  before. 

From  there  we  went  to  New  York. 

This  trip  ended  my  connection  with  Jim  Cor- 
bett. 

Corbett  showed  no  gratitude  for  what  I  had 
done  for  him  and  afterward  treated  me  in  a 
very  shabby  manner. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  195 

I  was  so  worn  out  after  my  return  that  I 
found  it  necessary  to  take  a  long  rest,  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  never  again  have  anything 
to  do  with  a  prize  fight. 


CHAPTER  XII 


JOHN  L.  SULLIVAN  was  great  in  many  ways. 
He  had  excellent  common  sense,  and  he  was  not 
deceived  by  the  flattery  of  the  crowd  of  hangers- 
on  that  swarmed  around  him  half  so  much  as 
they  thought  he  was.  You  will  find  proof  of 
that  in  the  following  incident  when  you  come 
to  the  end. 

It  happened  after  the  battle  with  Corbett  at 
New  Orleans,  and  John  had  returned  to  New 
York,  physically  sore  from  the  beating  he  had 
received,  but  suffering  much  greater  distress 
from  the  realization  that  his  power  had  gone 
from  him,  never  to  return.  The  thousands  of 
admirers  of  the  Big  Follow  in  New  York  gave 
him  a  benefit  at  the  Madison  Square  Garden,  the 

196 


THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  197 

scene  of  so  many  of  his  former  triumphs.  The 
wind-up  was  to  be  an  exhibition  bout  of  three 
rounds  between  Sullivan  and  his  late  adversary, 
for  Corbett  volunteered  his  services,  not  only 
with  generosity  but  with  excellent  judgment. 
It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  millions  of 
Americans  were  sore  on  him  because  he  had 
beaten  the  old  champion,  and  the  surest  way  to 
gain  popular  favor  was  to  show  a  kindly  interest 
in  the  monarch  he  had  toppled  off  the  throne. 

The  Garden  was  crowded.  Through  the  thick 
veil  of  tobacco  smoke  that  rolled  and  swung 
near  the  roof  you  could  see  that  every  seat  in 
the  galleries  was  filled  and  that  men  and  youths 
were  standing  away  back  of  the  seats  near  the 
rafters,  where  they  would  be  able  to  barely  make 
out  the  figures  in  the  ring  far  below.  The  bal- 
conies and  boxes  were  filled  and  overflowing, 
and  the  floor  of  the  amphitheater  was  black 
with  a  throng,  tightly  wedged  in,  elbow  to  el- 
bow, of  men  who  came  to  have  their  first  look 
at  the  California  wonder  in  action,  no  less  to 


198    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

testify  their  admiration  for  the  only  John  L. 

Perhaps  I  have  said  so  before,  but  if  I  have, 
there  is  no  no  harm  in  saying  again  that  the 
American  people  have  never  lost  and  will  never 
lose  their  admiration  and  affection  for  Sulli- 
van. He  was  not  only  the  most  marvelous  fight- 
ing machine  the  world  had  ever  seen,  but  he 
was  fearless  and  honest,  always  on  the  level. 
That  will  never  be  forgotten  of  him. 

When  the  wind-up  was  announced  Jim  Cor- 
bett  bounded  up  the  steps  and  through  the 
ropes,  tall,  slender,  elegant,  a  picture  of  grace- 
ful ferocity,  and  there  was  loud  applause.  The 
announcer  introduced  him  as  champion  of  the 
world.  There  was  louder  applause  and  more  of 
it.  Then  there  began  a  stir  at  the  edge  of  the 
arena  as  John  L.,  followed  by  his  attendants, 
slowly  pushed  his  way  through  the  crush.  What 
must  have  been  his  feelings  as  he  came  down 
from  his  dressing-room  and  faced  those  thou- 
sands who  had  never  before  seen  him  in  defeat ! 
I  don't  believe  that  Napoleon,  when  they  sent 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  199 

him.  away  to  die  on  a  lonely  little  island,  ever 
suffered  a  keener  pang  than  John  L.  Sullivan 
experienced  during  those  moments.  For  twelve 
years  he  had  stood  alone,  the  fighting  king  of  all 
mankind.  Now  he  must  come  forward  as  a 
mere  defeated  fighting  man,  stripped  of  all  his 
glory,  and,  worse  yet,  appear  in  the  company 
of  the  man  who  had  beaten  him.  But  he  never 
flinched.  The  honest  pride  that  had  carried  him 
to  the  front  still  stood  by  him  in  his  hour  of 
sorrow.  The  deep  frown  on  that  rugged  fore- 
head showed  that  he  was  suffering,  but  he  held 
his  head  high,  and  his  walk  was  as  jaunty  as 
ever. 

When  Sullivan  slowly  climbed  through  the 
ropes  a  roar  of  cheering,  handclapping,  stamp- 
ing and  wild  yelling  swept  through  the  house. 
John  looked  up  and  around  him  as  if  he  was 
dazed.  What!  All  this  enthusiasm  for  a  beaten 
man?  Had  he  still  as  many  friends  as  this? 
Was  it  possible?  There  it  was,  sure  enough, 
and  it  went  on  steadily  as  if  it  never  was  going 


200    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

to  stop.  The  announcer  had  no  need  to  intro- 
duce John  L.  to  that  crowd.  And  he  couldn't  if 
he  tried,  for  the  roar  of  welcome  and  kindly 
feeling  was  still  as  deep  and  loud  as  the  roar 
of  the  sea  on  a  rocky  shore.  After  many  min- 
utes, as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  noise  began 
to  die  away  somewhat  and  then  thousands  of 
men  began  to  shout:  " Sullivan!"  "Speech!" 
"Speech!"  " Sullivan!" 

The  Big  Fellow  gloomily  shook  his  head,  and 
walked  back  into  his  corner.  There  he  stood, 
looking  down  at  the  floor,  very  much  depressed 
and  determined  not  to  speak.  I  doubt  whether 
he  could  have  said  a  word  at  that  moment,  for 
his  heart  must  have  been  up  in  his  throat.  A 
couple  of  friends  urged  him  to  say  a  few  words. 
He  still  refused.  They  begged  him.  Finally  he 
consented.  And  all  this  time  the  applause  and 
yells  of  ' '  Speech ! "  "  Speech,  John  L. ! "  were 
thundering  away  at  him.  As  he  walked  to  the 
center  of  the  ring  the  cheering  was  louder  than 
ever.  The  crowd  were  determined  to  force  a 
speech  from  their  old  hero. 


THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  201 

Sullivan  raised  his  head  and  stuck  his  big 
right  arm  up  in  the  air.  There  it  was,  the  ter- 
rible right  that  had  smashed  many  hundreds  of 
men  into  unconsciousness,  but  now  would  fight 
no  more.  The  powerful  right  fist,  in  its  eight- 
ounce  glove,  looked  as  big  as  a  football.  The 
moment  the  arm  shot  up  the  crowd  stopped 
shouting.  The  silence  was  so  sudden  that  it  was 
painful.  The  house  couldn't  have  been  quieter 
if  that  terrible  right  had  landed  upon  every  man 
in  it.  I  '11  bet  no  one  breathed,  they  were  all  so 
eager  to  hear  what  he  would  say. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  a  sound  from  the 
very  top  gallery.  The  voice  was  old  and  sad 
and  quavering  a  little,  but  very  clear  and  sin- 
cere. Just  from  hearing  it  I  could  see  in  my 
mind  the  owner  of  that  voice — a  dry,  little  old 
man  from  the  County  Kerry.  What  he  said 
was: 

1  'God  bless  you,  John!" 

Just  an  old  man's  blessing,  long-drawn,  thin 
and  shaky,  but  any  one  that  didn't  say  amen 
to  it  was  no  man  at  all. 


202    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

Next  day,  when  they  were  giving  John  L.  his 
benefit  money  up  at  Wakeley's,  he  was  buying 
champagne  for  all  the  people  around  him, 
the  same  as  if  he  were  still  the  king.  A 
lot  of  flatterers  were  at  his  elbow,  telling  him : 
"John,  you're  as  good  as  ever  you  were!" 
"John,  you  showed  Corbett  up  last  night!"  and 
"John,  you  go  and  train  awhile,  and  you'll  lick 
that  fellow  sure!" 

"Hold  on,  there!"  Sullivan  interrupted. 
"Do  you  remember  last  night  when  I  held  up 
my  hand  and  stopped  the  cheering?" 

"Yes." 

"And  then  when  it  was  quiet  some  old  fellow 
up  in  the  gallery  said :  *  God  bless  you,  John'  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  so-and-so  was  on  the  level,"  John 
growled  in  his  deep,  rumbly  voice.  The  flatterers 
quit. 

Corbett  took  my  advice  and  made  a  match 
with  Mitchell,  whom  he  beat  easily  in  three 
rounds  at  the  Fair  Grounds  just  outside  of 
Jacksonville,  Florida,  in  January,  1904. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  203 

Shortly  after  this  I  went  to  England,  where 
I  stayed  several  days  and  then  went  to  Ireland. 
I  stayed  there  quite  a  while,  enjoying  myself 
very  much.  Ireland  impressed  me  as  an  en- 
chanted land.  The  beauty  and  the  gentle  kind- 
liness of  the  people.  Yet  the  country  made  me 
sad;  it  was  so  poor  and  the  people  seemed  so 
unable  to  help  themselves. 

It  is  useless  for  me  to  try  to  describe  my  im- 
pressions of  Ireland  here,  but  the  following 
little  incident  impressed  me : 

While  I  was  walking  through  the  Gap  of  Dun- 
loe  I  came  to  a  man  standing  in  front  of  his 
cottage.  He  had  a  little  table  in  front  of  his 
door  with  several  bottles  of  porter  on  it. 

"Will  you  have  a  bottle  of  porter,  sir?"  he 
said  to  me. 

"I'm  not  drinking,"  I  replied,  "but  here's  a 
shilling." 

I  got  into  conversation  with  him,  and  looking 
into  the  cottage,  saw  a  turf  fire,  the  first  I'd  ever 
seen,  burning  inside. 


204    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

'  I  said  to  him:  " Would  you  mind  my  going 
inside  and  looking  at  that  turf  fire?  I've  never 
been  inside  an  Irish  cottage.'* 

"Cead  mille  failthe"  (a  hundred  thousand 
welcomes),  he  replied  in  Gaelic. 

I  entered.  The  cottage  consisted  of  two  small 
rooms  with  dirt  floors.  The  sole  furniture  con- 
sisted of  a  little  table,  a  crude  sideboard  and 
three  rough  wooden  benches.  Their  beds  were 
bunks,  one  above  the  other.  The  poverty  of 
the  place  depressed  me  and  I  went  outside 
quickly. 

There  were  two  little  fellows  inside,  who  re- 
minded me  of  my  own  children. 

I  stopped  and  talked  quite  a  while  with  the 
man,  who  told  me  his  name  was  Moriarty.  I 
asked  him  why  he  didn't  go  to  America,  telling 
him  that  any  man  who  went  there  and  was  sober 
and  industrious  could  earn  more  than  enough 
to  support  himself  and  furnish  his  children  with 
an  education. 

"Oh,  sir!"  He  replied,  "I  hate  to  leave  the 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  205 

spot  were  I  was  born.  My  great-grandfather 
built  this  cottage  and  my  grandfather,  my 
father,  myself  and  my  children  were  born 
here." 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  Irish  love  their 
country,  though  they  have  owned  little  of  it  until 
lately? 

I  left  after  giving  the  children  a  shilling 
apiece  and  continued  my  walk. 

I  went  back  to  London  and  from  there  I  took 
an  excursion  into  France.  A  few  days  later  I 
sailed  for  America. 

Some  time  after  I  returned  I  was  asked  by 
Arthur  Brisbane,  an  editor  of  the  New  York 
World,  to  go  to  Coney  Island,  where  Fitzsim- 
mons  was  training  for  his  fight  with  Corbett, 
and  have  some  pictures  taken  with  him  for  the 
paper. 

Mr.  Brisbane  and  I  went  over  to  Fitz's  train- 
ing quarters  together.  After  we  had  posed  for 
the  pictures  Fitz  said  to  me:  "Let's  go  up  into 
the  loft  and  have  a  set-to  for  Mr.  Brisbane. " 


206    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

We  put  on  the  gloves  and  after  we  had 
sparred  a  few  moments  I  shifted  and  struck 
Fitz  a  left  swing  on  the  short  ribs. 

''That's  a  good  one,  Mike,"  he  said. 

"Fitz,"  I  said,  "that's  the  punch  to  beat  Cor- 
bett  with.  Don't  mind  his  head.  Punch  him  in 
the  body." 

I  again  demonstrated  the  shift  to  him  which 
I  had  shown  him  first  a  couple  of  years  ago  at 
the  New  York  Athletic  Club. 

To  execute  the  shift  a  man  should  feint  with 
his  right  for  the  head,  throwing  the  right  foot 
forward.  When  your  opponent  raises  his  guard 
shift  your  feet,  that  is,  throw  your  left  foot  for- 
ward, and  swing  or  hit  straight  for  the  body 
with  your  left. 

Charley  White,  who  was  training  Fitzsim- 
mons,  said  to  him:  "That's  right,  Bob,  take  his 
advice.  He  knows . ' ' 

While  Fitz  was  being  rubbed  down  I  was  in- 
terviewed by  Mr.  Brisbane,  and  I  predicted  Cor- 
bett's  defeat. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  207 

Fitzsimmons  practiced  the  shift  constantly 
until  he  had  mastered  it,  and  it  stood  him  in 
good  stead  at  Carson  City  against  Corbett. 

This  was  my  last  bit  of  advice  to  a  fighter. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MY  FIGHT  WITH  DEMPSEY 

I  WILL  now  go  back  a  few  years  and  describe 
my  fight  with  Jack  Dempsey,  which  occurred 
at  Williamsburg,  Brooklyn,  in  November,  1888. 

I  was  then  41  years  old  and  Dempsey  was 
then  the  middleweight  champion  and  known  uni- 
versally as  the  "Nonpareil."  He  was  then  27 
years  old. 

A  pupil  of  mine,  Johnny  Reagan,  who  fought 
Dempsey,  accidentally  spiked  him,  although 
Jack  beat  him. 

Dempsey  blamed  me  for  this,  when,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  I  had  urged  Reagan  to  have  the 
spikes  filed  off,  knowing  they  would  do  him  far 
more  harm  than  good. 

I  sent  Billy  Madden,  Dempsey 's  second,  to 
Jack  and  asked  him  to  delay  the  fight  until  we 
could  have  the  spikes  filed  off.  He  said  he 

308 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  209 

didn't  care  anything  about  the  spikes  and  in- 
sisted that  we  go  on.  This  matter  led  to  hard 
feelings  between  Dempsey  and  myself. 

I  went  into  the  Hoffman  House  one  night  and 
met  a  crowd  of  acquaintances,  several  of  them 
brokers  and  followers  of  boxing.  I  sat  at  their 
table  and  they  got  to  talking  about  Dempsey. 
Finally  one  of  them  spoke  up,  saying:  "Why 
don't  you  fight  Dempsey,  Mike?" 

"  WTiat's  the  use  of  talking  that  way?"  I  said. 
"I've  retired  now.  I've  been  out  of  the  ring 
for  years.  I've  got  a  good  position  in  the  club 
at  a  big  salary  and  I'm  satisfied.  I  don't  want 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  fighters  or 
fighting." 

The  same  man  said :    ' l  Are  you  afraid ! ' ' 

I  jumped  up  and  said:  "Afraid!  I'm  afraid 
of  no  man  living.  What  do  you  mean!" 

This  incident  caused  a  lot  of  bad  talk  to  be 
carried  back  and  forth  which  widened  the 
breach  between  Dempsey  and  me. 

A  report  of  the  matter  got  into  the  papers, 
and  finally  things  got  to  the  point  where  I  felt  it 


210    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

was  up  to  me  to  fight  Dempsey  to  prove  to 
people  that  I  was  not  afraid. 

A  newspaper  man  went  to  Dempsey  and  told 
him  I  was  willing  to  fight  him. 

"What!"  said  Dempsey,  "that  old-timer T 
I'll  lick  him  with  a  punch." 

This  remark  of  Dempsey 's  was  published.  I 
replied  to  this,  saying  I  would  make  Dempsey 
regret  what  he  had  said  to  the  last  day  of  his 
life. 

I  drew  up  articles  of  agreement  and  sent  them 
to  Dempsey  for  his  signature  by  Ned  Mallahan, 
and  later  by  Dennis  Butler,  my  brother-in-law. 

They  were  unable  to  locate  Dempsey  for  a 
month,  during  which  time  he  was  undergoing  a 
hard  course  of  training  at  Far  Kockaway. 

During  this  time  I  was  doing  my  best  to  build 
myself  up,  walking  in  Central  Park  with  my 
children,  eating  and  sleeping  all  I  could  and 
taking  a  long  sun  bath  every  afternoon. 

Three  of  my  children  were  sick,  and  I  had  to 
be  up  a  good  deal  at  night,  helping  my  wife 
take  care  of  them. 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  211 

About  two  weeks  before  the  fight  I  sprained 
my  left  shoulder  boxing  with  a  pupil.  I  was 
also  beginning  to  show  the  effects  of  my  loss  of 
sleep,  and  several  pupils  finally  prevailed  on  me 
to  apply  for  a  vacation.  I  did  and  it  was 
granted  without  question. 

The  fight  occurred  two  weeks  later. 

I  quote  here  the  New  York  Herald's  descrip- 
tion of  the  affair: 

DEMPSEY  ONLY  DRAWS  IN  THE  SIX- 
ROUND  BATTLE  WITH  DONOVAN 


SCIENCE  AND  HARD  BLOWS 


The  "Professor"  Surprises  His  Friends  and 
the  "Nonpareil"  as  Well 


A  GOOD  OLD  MAN 


The  Palace  Rink  in  Williamsburg,  near  the 
Grand  Street  ferry,  was  a  scene  of  uproar  last 


212    THE  KOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

night.  It  was  a  meeting  of  the  pugilists,  Mike 
Donovan  and  Jack  Dempsey,  in  the  trifling  mat- 
ter of  six  rounds,  Queensberry  rules. 

The  sporting  world  had  been  excited  for 
weeks  because  of  this  announced  encounter. 
Donovan,  once  the  champion  middleweight  of 
America,  felt  aggrieved,  it  is  said,  because  of 
the  rapidly  growing  popularity  of  Dempsey, 
added  to  which  the  story  runs  that  the  latter  on 
one  or  two  occasions  treated  the  former  in  a 
very  indifferent,  if  not  supercilious,  way.  The 
blood  of  the  Donovans  couldn't  stand  that,  and 
hence  after  many  interviews  it  was  arranged 
that  there  should  be  a  public  meeting  between 
them  in  the  style  already  noted. 


WHAT  THEY  BATTLED  FOB 

The  conditions  agreed  upon  were  that  Demp- 
sey should  receive  sixty-five  per  cent.,  win,  lose 


MIKE    DONOVAN    WHEN    HE   FOUGHT   JACK  DEMPSEY 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  213 

or  draw,  and  Donovan  thirty-five  per  cent. 
Dempsey,  under  the  circumstances,  stood  in 
lucky  shoes. 

The  Palace  Eink  is  an  ancient  skating  hall. 
The  stage  is  at  the  upper  end,  and  the  ring  was 
fully  twenty-eight  feet  square — large  enough, 
for  any  pugilists.  The  place  was  filled  with  club- 
men, amateur  and  professional  boxers.  The 
galleries,  too,  though  not  very  commodious, 
were  packed  to  suffocation.  It  was  an  old- 
time  gathering — an  out-and-out  company  of 
good  judges  of  pugilism,  and  withal  prejudiced 
one  way  or  the  other.  There  were  fully  twenty- 
five  hundred  people  in  the  assemblage,  all  of 
whom  paid  $1  or  $3,  according  to  the  position 
of  the  seats. 


PBOMINENT  PATRONS 

Brooklyn  City  Accountant  William  Brown, 
Philip  Dwyer,  Brooklyn's  Corporation  Counsel 
[William  C.  DeWitt,  Denny  Costigan,  Joe  El- 


214    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

lingsworth,  Mike  Cleary,  Justice  Schelein, 
Charles  Primrose,  Mike  Gladwin,  Jimmy 
O'Neill,  Ike  Weir,  "Soap"  McAlpine,  George 
Engemann,  Jack  Hopper,  Billy  Edwards,  Joe 
Coburn,  Pat  Sheedy,  Frank  Banham,  Phil 
Lynch,  Jim  Wakely,  William  Lakeland,  Charley 
Johnson,  Dick  Roche,  "Dick  the  Rat,"  William 
Renn  and  clubmen  galore.  It  was  a  mixed  as- 
semblage, but  then  everything  goes  at  a  boxing 
match  of  this  character. 

There  was  much  to  interest  the  stranger  to 
such  scenes.  The  "Spider"  at  one  time  was 
showing  his  arm,  and  now  and  then  Joe  Coburn 
was  shouting:  "They  are  all  right."  Then  Co- 
burn  descended  from  the  gallery  and  worked  his 
way  to  the  stage,  where  he  remained,  as  did  Bob 
Smith,  Jack  Hopper  and  other  scrappers,  old 
and  young. 


PRELIMINARY  HITS   AND   MISSES 

Like  all  competitions  of  the  kind  there  were 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  215 

preliminary  set-tos,  but  they  were  only  borne 
with  because  it  took  up  the  time  leading  to  the 
grand  clash.  Billy  Hart  and  Frank  Boyd  were 
the  first  and  did  fairly  well.  Frank  Crysler  and 
Fred.  Chandler  followed,  teacher  and  pupil 
James  Carroll  and  Ed.  Connors  tried  hard  and 
pleased  all  hands.  And  then  J.  Shay  and  Jack 
Boylan  amused  the  big  crowd  with  some  clever 
work. 

At  last  the  approach  of  the  roast  beef,  but 
after  a  long,  long  wait  until  the  goodly  company 
at  the  feast  became  very  impatient.  Cat-calls, 
snatches  of  the  late  campaign  songs,  thumping 
the  floor  in  one-two-three  order  with  deafening 
noise. 


SOME  SHOET  SPEECHES 

Denny  Butler  came  on  the  stage,  wiped  his 
mouth,  and  shouted:  " Gents — I  am  requested  to 
ask  you  by  both  contests  to  stop  smoking.  Both 
contests  will  be  much  obleeged  to  you  if  you  do. ' ' 


216    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

And  Denny  retired,  followed  by  shouts  of  de- 
rision. 

Mr.  Jack  DeMott  then  entertained  the  audi- 
ence with  a  lecture  on  athletics.  He  " believed 
it  developed  human  nature" — whatever  that 
meant — "and  athletic  exercise  was  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world  for  that  audience  and  their 
progeny,"  whereupon  some  of  the  boys  made  a 
great  deal  of  noise  and  there  was  a  mighty  shout 
when  the  speaker  threw  two  or  three  chunks  of 
Latin  at  them.  He  retired,  assuring  all  hands 
that  there  was  no  animosity  between  Dempsey 
and  Donovan.  "They're  all  right!"  yelled  a 
Bcore  and  Mr.  DeMott  waved  his  hands. 


FIXING  FOE  THE  FKAY 

The  wait  was  very  annoying.  It  was  all  about 
the  referee.  Pat  Sheedy  was  asked,  but  refused. 
Dick  Roche  was  besought,  but  wouldn  't  have  it. 
Billy  Edwards  declined.  James  Wakely  like- 
wise. Then,  as  if  to  appease  the  clamor  of  the 


THE  BOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  217 

thousands,  the  men-  came  upon  the  stage  at  ten 
minutes  of  eleven  o'clock  in  fighting  rig, 
stripped  to  the  waist,  but  with  overcoats  cover- 
ing their  shoulders.  Butler  and  Tom  Lees  were 
Donovan's  seconds,  and  Gus  Tuthill  and  Dennis 
Costigan  appeared  for  Dempsey.  The  time- 
keeper for  the  latter  was  Ed.  Plummer,  and 
Pete  Donohue  acted  in  like  capacity  for  Dono- 
van. Jerry  Donovan,  the  brother  of  Mike,  was 
also  in  the  latter 's  corner.  Finally  both  men 
walked  to  the  ropes  and  requested  Billy  O'Brien 
to  act  as  referee,  and  he  finally  consented.  So 
with  four-ounce  gloves,  a  yell  of  defiance  from 
Dempsey 's  friends  and  a  thundering  shout  of 
encouragement  from  Donovan's  admirers,  the 
men  were  ready. 


THE  BATTLE 

First  Eound. — They  shook  hands,  and  the 
house  again  trembled  with  applause.  Then,  re- 
tiring to  their  corners,  "time"  was  called 


218    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

and  the  fight  began.  With  one  glance  at 
his  opponent  Donovan  sent  out  his  left  at 
the  head,  but  Jack  stopped  it  prettily.  Again 
he  essayed  it,  and  this  time  it  reached  the  mark. 
Jack  was  surprised,  and  the  surprise  continued 
as  Donovan  went  at  him  left  and  right  and 
reached  face  and  head  before  ceasing.  Demp- 
sey  thought  matters  should  be  squared,  and  sent 
his  left  on  Donovan's  stomach,  which  gave 
Jack's  friends  a  chance  to  yell.  Mike  was  short 
with  the  left  and  Jack  got  to  the  other's  chin. 
Once  more  Donovan  fought  the  mark  with  his 
left  over  the  eye,  which  Jack  endeavored  to 
square  with  a  vicious  thrust,  but  it  was  stopped, 
and  Donovan's  left  was  on  the  pit  of  Jack's 
stomach  with  force,  and  the  round  was  over, 
Donovan  having  much  the  best  of  it. 

Second  Bound. — Both  quick  to  the  scratch, 
and  Dempsey  retreating,  he  was  followed  by 
Donovan,  who  got  rapped  for  his  temerity. 
Mike  essayed  his  right  in  return  and  missed. 
Dempsey  looked  mischievous  and  managed  to 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  219 

land  on  Mike's  head,  and  missed  with  a  swinging 
right.  The  applause  was  deafening.  Donovan 
then  went  at  Jack  with  determination,  and 
smashing  him  full  in  the  face  Dempsey  slipped 
away,  but  Donovan  pursued,  and  upon  Jack's 
turning  he  was  compelled  to  do  his  best  to  es- 
cape right  and  left  sent  at  his  head.  From  this 
on  Dempsey  fought  with  coolness  and  judgment, 
but  the  round  ended  with  Donovan  still  in  the 
lead,  which  was  surprising  to  all  of  Dempsey 's 
friends. 

Third  Round. — At  work,  without  a  second's 
delay,  Dempsey  sent  out  d  vicious  left,  but  it 
was  splendidly  stopped.  He  was  short  with  the 
right  and  so  was  Mike  with  the  same.  Sharp 
exchanges  followed,  both  on  the  stomach,  and 
Dempsey  on  Mike 's  neck,  a  very  sharp  rap.  The 
remainder  of  the  round  was  slightly  in  favor  of 
Dempsey,  but  so  trifling  that  it  is  not  worth 
speaking  of. 

Fourth  Round. — Donovan  the  fresher.  Stops 
were  made  by  both,  but  Mike  was  first  to  land, 


220    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

reaching  Jack's  stomach.  The  latter  swung  his 
right,  but  Donovan  caught  it  on  the  back  of  his 
head  by  ducking.  He  deserved  the  applause  he 
received.  The  response  was  clever  and  was  full 
in  Dempsey's  face.  Mike  received  a  rib  roaster 
which  he  didn't  like,  but  he  soon  got  even  by 
two  raps  on  the  side  of  his  opponent's  head. 
An  uppercut  with  his  right  was  attempted  by 
Dempsey,  but  the  old  man  was  too  wary  and 
got  out  of  range.  Lucky  again.  To  the  end 
of  this  round  there  was  much  science  shown  and 
the  stopping  was  of  the  most  scientific  order. 
Time  was  called  with  Donovan's  left  on  Demp- 
sey's breast. 

Fifth  Bound. — The  house  was  intensely  ex- 
cited. The  boys  on  the  rafters  came  near 
tumbling  down  on  the  audience  below  in  the  ex- 
cess of  their  joy.  They  make  fighters  in  that 
part  of  Brooklyn.  Both  men  jumped  up  with 
alacrity  and  without  hesitation  renewed  hostili- 
ties. Bang!  went  Donovan's  left  on  the  other's 
stomach,  to  which  came  a  return  from  Jack  that 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  221 

was  on  mischief  bent,  both  left  and  right  being 
used.  Again  Jack  got  on  Donovan's  face,  and 
with  a  right-hander  tried  the  knocking-out 
game,  but  failed.  Donovan  rallied  splendidly, 
and  to  the  end  of  the  round  delivered  effect- 
ive blows  and  had  a  decided  lead  on  points  on 
Jack.  A  great  surprise,  but  a  fact,  the  round 
ended  with  Mike's  left  on  Dempsey's  body. 

Sixth  and  Last  Bound. — Both  quick  to  move, 
and  neither  the  advantage  of  the  other  in  wind. 
Donovan  was  first  to  lead,  as  he  had  so  often 
done,  but  it  was  short.  He  stopped  a  wicked 
left  of  Dempsey's  in  return  when  sharp-eyed 
Donovan  discovered  blood  on  Jack's  mouth  and 
claimed  "first  blood,"  which  was  allowed.  He 
got  on  Mike's  face  with  his  left,  missed  a  wicked 
one  with  his  right  and  reached  Mike's  neck, 
Chough  not  heavily.  Then  the  old  man  sent  hot 
shot  into  Dempsey's  body  and  face,  and  with 
terrific  exchanges,  amid  the  demoniac  yells  of 
lookers-on,  time  was  called  and  the  battle  was 
over.  The  referee  called  it  a  draw,  claiming  it 


222    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

was  one  of  the  grandest  battles  he  ever  saw — 
and  he 's  an  old-timer — but  two-thirds  of  the  au- 
dience and  many  of  the  fighters  present  claimed 
Donovan  was  the  winner. 

One  of  Dempsey's  bets  on  the  result  was,  it  is 
said,  that  he  would  knock  Donovan  out  in  the 
second  round. 

He  lost  that  wager  'way  off. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   WORD   TO   THE   FIGHTING   BOYS   OF   THE   PRESENT 
DAY 

BOYS,  you  ought  to  appreciate  the  great  ad- 
vantage you  have  over  the  old-timers  who  used 
to  fight  with  the  bare  knuckles.  You  get  large 
purses  because  of  the  liberal  patronage  of  the 
public  and  the  great  increase  of  wealth  in  the 
country.  You  only  fight  a  limited  number  of 
rounds,  therefore  you  know  your  stopping- 
place.  You  fight  in  comfortable  club-houses, 
with  a  nice  dressing-room  to  get  a  good  rub- 
down  to  promote  good  circulation.  You  fight  on 
a  padded  stage,  where  there  is  no  danger  of  in- 
jury if  you  should  fall  or  slip.  You  have  ban- 
dages on  your  hands  to  save  them  from  break- 
ing, besides  a  well-fitting  glove  with  a  grip  at 


224    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

the  tips  of  your  fingers  to  enable  you  to  get  a 
good  hold  which  makes  the  hands  firm,  thereby 
enabling  you  to  hit  hard  without  the  great  risk 
of  hurting  your  hands.  If  defeated,  you  get  a 
good  sum  to  compensate  you  for  your  trouble 
and  defeat.  The  old-timers  got  nothing.  A 
stake  of  $1,000  a  side  could  be  obtained  only  by 
champions. 

Now,  let  me  picture  the  other  side,  as  it  is  well 
to  know  both.  I  cannot  do  better  than  to  de- 
scribe a  fight  I  had  with  the  bare  knuckles  on 
a  cold,  stormy  day.  I  was  just  21.  My  oppo- 
nent, John  Boyne,  was  about  27.  We  had  to 
ride  in  uncomfortable  cars  about  75  miles. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  battle  ground,  we  left 
the  cars  to  wade  through  snow-drifts  to  a  farm- 
house. The  wind  was  blowing  pretty  briskly, 
and  when  I  arrived  at  the  house,  I  need  not  say 
that  I  was  very  cold. 

The  very  thought  that  I  would  have  to 
fight  in  that  snow  and  cold  wind  on  the 
frozen  ground  gave  me  the  shivers,  but 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  2zo 

it  had  to  be  done.  The  farmer  made  us  as 
comfortable  as  it  was  possible  to  do  in  a  two- 
room  log  cabin.  I  had  never  met  my  opponent 
before.  I  had  my  legs  stretched  out  at  the  fire- 
place, and  a  man  sat  next  to  me,  doing  the  same. 
He  said  to  me :  "  Say,  kid,  which  of  those  fel- 
lows is  Donovan?  Is  that  him  over  there?" 
pointing  to  a  big  fellow. 

"No,"  said  I;  "I  am  Donovan." 

"You!"  he  cried,  and  jumped  up  with  sur- 
prise. "  Why,  you  are  only  a  kid. " 

"That  may  be,"  I  said,  "but  I  can  lick  you 
all  right,"  though  I  was  not  so  sure  on  that 
point. 

Really,  when  I  saw  and  heard  him  I  was  more 
afraid  of  the  cold  weather  than  I  was  of  him, 
although  he  looked  like  a  hard-fisted  fellow. 

Well,  the  time  came  to  go  to  the  ring,  which 
was  pitched  between  three  ricks  of  hay.  It  be- 
gan to  snow  pretty  hard.  Dick  Hollowood,  then 
the  featherweight  champion,  well  known  all  over 
the  country,  had  sent  a  man  a  mile  to  the  village 


226    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

for  two  bricks  to  put  in  the  fireplace  and  heat 
them  so  that  I  could  put  my  feet  on  them,  to 
keep  them  warm  during  the  time  in  the  corner. 
If  it  was  not  for  this,  I  don't  think  I  could  have 
stood  it.  Dick  had  experience,  which  served  me 
well.  The  other  fellow  wasn't  as  fortunate  as 
I  was  in  having  an  experienced  man. 

Time  was  called.  We  met  at  the  scratch  with 
bare  fists  and  stripped  to  the  waist.  A  shiver 
ran  through  me.  We  began  to  fiddle  for 
an  opening.  I  think  to  this  day  that  the 
first  blow  I  struck  him  won  that  fight, 
although  the  fight  was  33  rounds,  lasting 
fifty  minutes.  Hollowood  advised  me  to 
keep  stabbing  him  with  my  left  when  he  came 
for  me.  I  did  as  I  was  told.  He  rushed;  I 
stabbed,  catching  him  full  on  the  nose.  He 
clinched  for  the  fall  and  I  threw  him.  I  might 
say  that  I  was  fighting  with  Hollowood 's  head 
instead  of  my  own.  My  head  was  a  weather 
head  just  then.  I  never  forgot  the  cold,  but  kept 
following  my  second's  advice,  which  enabled  mo 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW!  227 

to  keep  the  lead.  Now  let  me  tell  the  gentle 
reader  that  I  did  not  get  off  scot-free  from  the 
only  knock-down  in  the  fight.  It  was  your  hum- 
ble servant  who  dropped  as  the  fight  progressed. 
I  was  getting  colder.  I  did  not  want  to  give 
it  away  to  the  other  fellow  that  the  cold  both- 
ered me,  but  I  could  not  stand  the  numbness  of 
my  hands  any  longer.  They  were  like  paralyzed 
hands,  with  no  feeling  in  them.  I  picked  up  the 
bricks  and  held  them  in  my  hands  to  warm  them, 
but  the  bricks  had  become  cold ;  so  I  stood  in  my 
corner  after  time  was  called  and  slapped  my 
hands  vigorously,  the  tips  of  my  fingers  against 
my  body,  to  get  up  circulation.  To  my  great 
surprise  and  pleasure  my  opponent  followed  my 
example.  His  seconds  urged  him,  saying: 
"Now,  John,  here  is  your  chance  while  the  kid 
is  cold."  But  John  by  that  time  had  learned  to 
respect  the  "kid,"  and  was  no  more  anxious  to 
hurry  matters  than  I  was.  We  met,  however, 
and  clinched  for  the  fall,  which  I  usually  gained, 
as  I  was  quite  a  good  wrestler.  After  this  he 


228    THE  EOOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

and  1  would  stand  within  five  feet  of  each  other 
and  give  our  hands  a  vigorous  slapping.  The 
crowd  laughed  at  the  picture  we  presented. 

Well,  the  thirty-third  and  last  round  came  and 
we  began  with  another  good  hand-slapping. 
When  I  felt  the  blood  tingling  down  in  the  tips 
of  my  fingers  I  led  out  for  him,  catching  him 
just  over  the  eye,  cutting  it  slightly.  He  rushed, 
and  I  ducked  to  avoid  him,  as  I  had  been  advised 
by  Hollowood,  to  keep  him  on  his  legs  and  make 
the  rounds  as  long  as  possible,  as  he  saw  signs 
of  Boyne's  legs  weakening.  I  had  no  trouble 
this  way.  It  was  only  the  cold  that  bothered  me. 
As  I  ducked,  he  swung  his  arm  around,  catching 
me  around  the  neck  (chancery).  I  tried  to  jerk 
out  of  the  hold,  but  he  hung  on  with  a  grip  of 
death,  and  I  could  not  break  his  hold.  My  sec- 
onds were  giving  me  all  kinds  of  advice  about 
how  to  break,  and  I  was  trying  to  follow  it.  He 
was  hurting  and  choking  me.  I  became  des- 
perate, put  my  two  hands  above  his  thighs,  at 
the  same  time  lifting  him  with  the  power  of  my 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  229 

neck  and  back,  raising  his  legs  high  up  in  the 
air,  throwing  him  clear  over  my  head.  He  held 
on  to  his  hold,  bringing  me  with  him.  He  fell 
heavily  on  the  back  of  his  head  which  knocked 
him  out  completely.  I  sustained  a  terrible  shock 
which  almost  knocked  me  out. 

I  was  carried  to  my  corner  more  dead  than 
alive.  The  fall  upset  my  stomach  so  that  I  had 
a  terrible  spell  of  retching.  As  time  was  called 
I  walked  to  the  scratch,  with  my  head  bent  away 
forward,  still  retching,  when  I  saw  his  seconds 
throw  up  the  sponge,  in  token  of  defeat.  I  need 
not  say  that  I  could  not  have  fought  another  lick 
if  I  received  a  million  for  it ;  but  I  won  and  was 
happy.  I  was  quite  sick  for  an  hour  or  so.  My 
opponent  came  to  in  a  few  minutes,  and  he  felt 
squeamish  too.  We  shook  hands  in  the  farm- 
house, and  he  said:  "You  are  a  good  kid,  and 
will  be  champion  some  day."  I  thanked  him 
for  the  compliment.  He  went  away,  and  I  went 
with  my  party  to  Indianapolis.  I  resolved  then 
and  there  never  to  fight  again  on  a  winter's  day. 


230    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

My  right  ear  was  frozen  and  my  body  black  and 
blue  from  the  slapping  I  gave  it  in  trying  to 
warm  my  hands. 

:  Now,  let  the  boys  of  to-day  compare  the  con- 
ditions and  see  who  deserve  the  most  credit.  I 
think  that  most  of  them  will  be  honest  enough  to 
admit  that  we  old-timers  knew  how  to  fight  too, 
and  must  have  been  clever  as  well.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  but  that  some  of  the  fighters  of  the 
present  day  would  not  do  just  as  we  did,  for  I 
believe  men  are  just  as  game  to-day  as  they 
ever  were,  and  as  good,  too — but  no  better. 
Character  averages  about  the  same  from  one 
generation  to  another. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MODERN  FIGHTERS 

IN  closing  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  me  to 
give  an  opinion  in  regard  to  the  most  prominent 
modern  boxers. 

John  L.  Sullivan  revolutionized  fighting. 

He  was  the  first  man  to  adopt  the  method  of 
rushing  at  his  opponent  to  destroy  him  from  the 
moment  time  was  called. 

Often  John  L.  has  said  to  me:  "What's  the 
use  of  all  this  cleverness  ?  Go  at  your  man  and 
beat  him.  I  can  lick  any  man  that  was  ever  born 
of  woman."  That  is  how  he  won  all  of  his  bat- 
tles on  the  turf  with  bare  hands.  Sullivan  won 
the  championship  of  America  from  Paddy  Eyan 
in  this  way.  He  also  held  the  supremacy  with 
the  gloves. 

881 


232    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

James  J.  Corbett  was  a  wonderful  boxer, 
clever  and  speedy,  and  possessed  great  endur- 
ance. He  was  never  a  rugged  man,  but  a  fine 
type  of  the  gymnasium  athlete. 

Eobert  Fitzsimmons  was  the  hardest  hitter 
of  his  weight,  not  more  than  one  hundred  and 
sixty-five,  that  I  ever  saw.  This  was  due  to  his 
tremendous  shoulders,  back  and  arms.  Mounted 
on  a  pair  of  long,  thin  legs,  he  had  the  bone  and 
sinew  of  a  heavy-weight  man.  He  was  cou- 
rageous, crafty  and  a  great  student. 

Tom  Sharkey  was  more  of  the  old-time  fight- 
ing man  than  any  other  of  the  modern  boxers. 
He  would  have  made  a  good  man  in  the  days  of 
bare  knuckles.  The  best  summary  I  can  give  of 
him  is  to  say  that  in  his  fight  with  Jeffries,  who 
outweighed  him  thirty  pounds  and  stood  five 
and  one-half  inches  over  him,  he  was  the  ag- 
gressor from  start  to  finish,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  his  left  shoulder  was  sprained  in  the  four- 
teenth round  and  that  the  ribs  on  his  left  side 
were  beaten  in.  He  gave  Jeffries  the  hardest 


THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW  233 

fight  of  his  career.  He  had  a  hard,  accurate 
punch  and  was  always  an  honest,  sturdy  fighter. 
Jeffries  is  a  splendid  fighting  machine;  of  tre- 
mendous bulk  and  strength  and  rugged  char- 
acter, to  which  he  has  added  a  great  deal  of 
cleverness  under  good  instructors.  Jeffries  is 
the  largest  man  who  ever  held  the  champion- 
ship. He  weighed  over  two  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds  when  he  beat  Corbett  the  second  time, 
and  more  wonderful  yet,  outboxed  him. 

Of  all  the  fighters  of  recent  times  the  only  one 
who  compares,  in  my  opinion,  with  John  L.  Sul- 
livan as  a  natural  fighting  genius  who  battled 
from  the  love  of  combat,  using  only  instinctive 
methods  to  destroy  his  enemy,  was  little  Terry 
McGovern. 

But  among  all  the  fighting  men  I  have  ever 
seen  or  heard  about  John  L.  Sullivan  stands 
alone.  He  scorned  to  study  the  methods  or  copy 
the  style  of  any  one.  He  had  a  natural  genius 
for  fighting.  He  never  stepped  back.  At  the 
moment  time  was  called  he  leaped  at  his  antag- 


234    THE  ROOSEVELT  THAT  I  KNOW 

onist  like  a  tiger,  and  never  ceased  smashing 
until  the  enemy  fell  senseless.  He  cared  noth- 
ing for  cleverness,  but  overwhelmed  his  foe  with 
his  terrific  speed,  power  and  dominant  spirit. 
Other  men  have  been  students  of  the  game, 
courageous,  keen,  crafty,  strong,  enduring. 
There  was  one  greatest  fighting  man — John  L. 
Sullivan,  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 


THE  END 


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